


Children of Mine

by TonyPie17



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Erebor Never Fell, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bilbo and Frerin were together, Family, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Implied Mpreg, M/M, One-sided love at first sight (Thorin's side), slow building romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2016-05-21
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:50:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 41,053
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447615
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TonyPie17/pseuds/TonyPie17
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bilbo Baggins was once married to a Dwarf named Frerin. Though he knew many things about his husband, one thing he didn't know was that he was royalty. Bilbo had children by Frerin, a set of twins, one who is named after his other father and the other named after his other father's father. While Bilbo remembered Frerin's brother's face, it never exactly crossed his mind again until years later, when Thorin Oakenshield shows up on his doorstep. Bilbo at first sees Thorin as a brother and a wonderful helping hand with the boys. Thorin sees in Bilbo someone he could love. Though it takes a while, Bilbo eventually begins to see the same.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. In Twos

**Author's Note:**

> My first ever chapter fic, woo!
> 
> This was also inspired by a prompt on the hobbit kink meme ----> http://hobbit-kink.livejournal.com/13429.html?thread=24326261#t24326261

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Trouble comes"

His husband had mentioned having siblings only once in their entire relationship. Married when Bilbo was thirty-four, Frerin had been a constant in his life for eight wonderful years; years Bilbo had cherished. They had met by chance, having seen each other from across the Market place, where Bilbo was buying vegetables and Frerin was selling jewelry (after running from far away, Bilbo later found out). It seemed like love at first sight, especially after the first time they spoke to each other and everything flowed so very easy. Frerin had a wonderful sense of humor and loved Bilbo’s quick and sharp wit.

When they had married, only a few of Frerin’s kin had been able to come to see the ceremony, that brother included. Bilbo hadn’t had a single chance to speak with him because of the fuss all of his Hobbit kin and friends were making over him, but he had gotten a single look, and that had been enough. His face was etched into Bilbo’s mind as gruff and broody, nothing at all like Frerin’s charming smiles and hearty laughter. He forgot about him soon after, but the face was still there, and Bilbo recognized him immediately sixteen years later.

A lot had changed in those years.

When Bilbo was forty-two, he received two different types of news; one from a Dwarven messenger, sent from Moria, and the other from his doctor. He was going to be a father. As of two days ago he was a widow. When he thought back on it, it amazed him how quickly he had gone from joyful to sad. His husband was gone and his children were without another parent.

Eight years passed and he had given birth to twins; two healthy young boys. He named the elder Frerin II for his other father (and because he was nearly a carbon copy of Frerin I) and the younger Thrain III for the father-in-law he’d met only once but who had been just as hearty and full of joy as his son (Thrain, though, looked much more like Bilbo). Bilbo wished he’d spent more time with the boys’ other family; their father’s family, if only for them to find out more about their Dwarven heritage.

Mere days after Bilbo’s fiftieth birthday (and a full two months after Frerin and Thrain’s), he was visited by the Wandering Wizard.

“Good Morning, Mister Baggins, young Baggins, and young Baggins,” Gandalf greeted the little family.

Frerin and Thrain were playing warriors and dragons, crashing their little carved figurines together and making battle noises as Bilbo smoked from his pipe.

“Good morning,” Bilbo nodded his head, shooting a small smile Gandalf’s way when his boys scrambled up to crowd about Gandalf. Thrain was an adept climber; he grabbed at Gandalf’s robes and found foot and hand holds where even small critters could not. The actions reminded Bilbo of when his husband would climb high trees to get the ripest apples for Bilbo’s pies. It made Bilbo smile.

“Mither Gandalf! Mither Gandalf! I loth my thmall teeth, thee?” Frerin grinned and Gandalf chuckled, seeing that the young boy had indeed lost his two front teeth.

“And how, Master Frerin, had you managed that?” the old Man asked while somehow managing to keep his hat out of wandering hands.

“Someone was chasing his brother through the halls with a pot on his head,” Bilbo looked chiddingly at Frerin, who gave Bilbo a sheepish little smile. The same smile the boy’s namesake always gave Bilbo when he’d managed to “accidentally” break the ugly vase his Aunt Viv would give him every year on her birthday.

“It wath fun!” Frerin protested.

“Now Frerin gets to start his memory necklace first!” Thrain pouted. Frerin stuck his tongue out at him, to which Thrain responded by making faces.

“Boys,” Bilbo scolded. The two stopped immediately and Thrain climbed down from his seat atop Gandalf’s shoulders.

“Can we go see if Halfred can play?” Thrain asked. Bilbo gave them a stern look, but he was no match for their pleading eyes, large and wonderfully blue. He nodded and they went running, leaving the gate open and the adults to talk.

“What brings the Grey Wizard back to the Shire so early? My birthday was barely four days ago and the entire Shire had seen you off,” Bilbo asked, standing and closing the gate. He left it unlocked, though, knowing that the boys would take the opportunity to trample in the mud if they found it locked and had to hop it themselves.

“I went to Ered Luin, where my presence was requested by the Dwarves.” Ah, so he was coming back this way to say one last goodbye before he disappeared for another year, then. Bilbo supposed that was alright as well.

“Come to see the boys one last time before you left again, eh?” he hummed, blowing out another smoke ring.

“In a way,” Gandalf’s expression alarmed Bilbo just a bit, but he attributed it to Gandalf just being Gandalf.

They talked about mundane things after that; the weather, Bilbo’s tomatoes, Frerin and Thrain’s studies. It was all comfortable and nice, a change from Gandalf’s usually mysteriousness. Though, when Gandalf’s words began to trail off toward the topic of Dwarves, Bilbo got the feeling that there was an ulterior motive behind the Wizard’s sudden return to the Shire.

“Your late husband, Frerin. I spoke with his kin recently,” Gandalf was saying now. Bilbo hummed. Nowadays when he thought about his beloved, it stirred a feeling of nostalgia in him, because he only ever allowed the good memories to resurface. The boys’ Dwarven features helped greatly as well, because they were so very much alive even if their other father was not, and Frerin and Thrain were reason enough to keep Bilbo moving forward.

“Did you now?” he asked, taking a long puff from his pipe.

“Indeed. A caravan from the Blue Mountains is being prepped to head in the direction of the Lonely Mountain. His kin will be with it,” Gandalf explained. “They’ll be stopping here for a time. I figured they may want to meet you and the boys.”

Bilbo’s expression had gone from curious to understanding and then elated. He had been lamenting the fact that Frerin and Thrain had never known their other family, but now they had a chance to. They had a chance to meet their Uncle and Aunt and the few cousins Bilbo remembered. He nodded immediately then, smiling now.

“When shall they arrive? I’ll see to it they are given a wonderful welcome,” he chattered excitedly, standing.

“Tomorrow. I was sent ahead to make sure they had lodgings for the fortnight they plan to stay here,” Gandalf said. Bilbo looked slightly alarmed at such a short amount of time, but he nodded along anyway.

“Yes… Yes of course, alright. I’ll talk to the boys. They’ll be very excited to hear the news!” Bilbo’s smile grew in size, and he headed toward the gate. Gandalf, with an inquisitive smile of his own, tilted his head curiously.

“Where are you going, Master Baggins?” he asked.

“To the market! I’d like to have a full cupboard when Frerin’s family comes, especially if they eat like he did!” Bilbo called over his shoulder, disappearing around a hill and out of Gandalf’s sight.

Gandalf chuckled at his friend’s haste, before turning toward the green door of the Hobbit hole and humming. He carved a mark into the door and then turned on his heel.

He needed to double back and tell the Caravan that they had lodgings.


	2. Dwarven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Are you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I post this on October 14th, my birthday! I turn 16 today and out of excitement I'm posting the next chapter tonight instead of in the morning.

The entirety of the Shire was abuzz with the news of a Dwarven Caravan arriving soon. The Hobbits whispered and talked and asked questions amongst themselves, never loud enough for a certain Hobbit to hear, however. While almost the entirety of Hobbiton absolutely loved Frerin and Thrain Baggins, it was no secret of how they had come to be. A Dwarf had come to the Shire and married Bilbo Baggins, the son of Bungo and Belladonna. Most hadn’t been surprised; Bilbo had always been an odd one. Others couldn’t believe it.

Bilbo pretended he couldn’t hear the whispering as he held onto both Frerin and Thrain. He figured he could kill two birds with one stone by taking them to the market with him to help with shopping. He could also tell them about the guests they would be having the next day. The two were nothing if not enthusiastic in finding out, and they pointed out all the meats and things they simply “knew” Dwarves would love to eat.

“And how, my dear, do you know a Dwarf will eat an entire wheel of cheese?” Bilbo chuckled when Thrain picked one up.

“ _Because_ Da,” Thrain had said in an exasperated voice (and Bilbo thought it was simply cute), “me and Frerin can eat an entire wheel!”

Frerin agreed, nodding along and then pointing up at a fresh pig hanging from the stall they were at. “How much ith that?” he asked the merchant, who chortled down at the small child.

“Well, young man, how much do you have?” the merchant looked at Bilbo, winking and Bilbo smiled. Frerin took out his money purse (gifted to him at Bonnie Brandybuck’s birthday party) and poured out six gold coins. Bilbo thought it was precious.

“I have thixth cointh!” Frerin stated proudly.

“I see! And you counted it all by yourself?” the merchant feigned astonishment. Bilbo wished he could preserve the moment.

“Yup!” Frerin looked up at Bilbo, beaming, when the merchant took his six gold coins and then handed Bilbo the pig. Once it was in Bilbo’s hand, Frerin darted off behind his brother, who was already at another stall pointing out some venison. Bilbo turned back to the merchant and then pulled out his own coin purse.

“How much is it?” he asked. The merchant, still smiling in a jolly fashion, handed the six coins Frerin had given him back.

“Twenty silver ones will do,” he said. Bilbo’s brow furrowed and a frown crossed his face.

“Only twenty? Surely-”

“It’s alright, my friend. I’ve got little ones of my own back home who do the same thing. Makes ‘em happy to think they’ve paid for things on their own. Twenty is fine.” The merchant reached a hand out and Bilbo dropped twenty silver coins into his palm. The merchant then tipped his hat at Bilbo and waved as he walked away.

Bilbo followed behind Frerin and Thrain after he’d situated the pig correctly with their things. They continued shopping for maybe another half hour before heading for home, a small cart of food items being pulled along by a pony that was loaned to them.

The next day was filled with excitement. The Caravan had been spotted on the horizon and the whole of Hobbiton was preparing to give them a warm welcome. Bilbo woke Frerin and Thrain bright and early to get them bathed and dressed to meet their family. Though the two boys were reluctant to be roused from sleep so early, the moment Bilbo mentioned Dwarves they were bolting up and trying to head out the door in their pajamas (or in Thrain’s case, his lackthereof).

When Bilbo had dressed them, they each went running out the door, leaving Bilbo to simply smile and shake his head. He himself turned towards the kitchen, where he needed to get started with cooking. There was a caravan of Dwarves headed toward his house at some point and he wanted to have something for them to eat when they arrived.

[][][][][]

Frerin and Thrain were on a mission. They had to get to the Dwarves and meet them before any of their friends did. There were specific bragging rights to have when you meet Dwarves for the first time, even more so when you were the very first to meet the Dwarves. So Frerin and Thrain took every secret short cut through Hobbiton they knew to get to the Dwarves first.

Currently, though, they had been side tracked.

“I told you Mither Chubb’th trapth worked!” Frerin was huffing. He was staring up at his twin brother, who was hanging upside down from a tree.

“Just help!” Thrain whined. He couldn’t reach the rope around his ankle and the blood was starting to rush to his head. Frerin looked around, trying to figure something out. He spotted the tree the rope had been wrapped around and hurried over, pulling at it. It didn’t budge however, and Frerin realized he needed to find something sharp to cut the rope with. Only, their Da never ever _ever_ let them use sharp things to cut; he always did it for them.

Thrain was beginning to panic, so Frerin was beginning to panic. He looked this way and that, trying to find something, _anything_ that could help him get his brother down. He looked up at Thrain, who was beginning to get frantic. Thrain had never been simply _hanging_ in the air; he always climbed up things and knew how to get back down. He didn’t know how to get down from this.

“I’m gonna go get thomebody!” Frerin called up to Thrain. Thrain’s eyes went wide and he shook his head quickly.

“No! Don’t leave me!” he shouted. Frerin looked around. He honestly didn’t know what to do. The only way Thrain was going to get help was if he went to find someone to cut his brother down or if someone found them to help.

“I promithe I’ll be right back!” he said. Thrain looked scared, but nodded anyway.

“Come back soon!” Thrain watched Frerin head away from the tree, his fear escalating the moment his elder twin was out of sight. He tried to think happy thoughts to help himself calm down, but with each passing minute, which felt like hours to the eight year old, he found himself getting more and more scared.

Frerin wasn’t any better. He ran as fast as his small legs could take him, looking around for anyone nearby who could help him. He needed to get Thrain down as soon as possible; he didn’t like when his younger twin was scared. He continued running and running until finally he ran into someone’s legs and fell back on his behind. He reached a hand up to rub at his head and then looked up.

The first thing he spotted was a sword and his immediate thoughts were _Someone who can help!_ His eyes continued up until they landed on a face that looked a little familiar. Though, he didn’t remember ever seeing this person before; he and Thrain knew _everybody_ in the Shire, and this person clearly _wasn’t_ from the Shire at all. In fact, he looked a lot like…

“A Dwarf!” he shouted in awe. The Dwarf before him looked shocked to see him, but Frerin had absolutely no time to waste. Thrain was still stuck up in a tree.

“Pleathe pleathe pleathe help my brother! He’th thuck in a tree and he’th thcared and and pleathe!” Frerin begged, not at all hesitating to grab the Dwarf’s hand and pull him along in the direction he had come from. The Dwarf didn’t seem hard to move at all, though his hand was a bit heavy. But Frerin ignored the feeling in favour of returning to Thrain to help him down.

Thrain was beginning to give up on ever getting down. He thought about all his things back home with his Da and decided he would give half to Frerin and the rest to all his friends. His Da would get his special secret thing that he had told no one but Frerin about. Frerin would know to give it to Bilbo when Thrain was gone.

He was accepting his fate and resigning himself to a life of tree-hanging when he heard the sounds of rustling in the bushes. Thrain opened his eyes and saw a person taller than his Da come through with Frerin pulling them along. It took a moment before Thrain realized that this was a Dwarf, and then he was staring in awe.

“Thrain! I found thomebody!” Frerin shouted. He pulled the Dwarf over to to the tree with the rope tied to it and waited expectantly. The Dwarf was slow in figuring out what he was to do, but once it registered in his mind that he was supposed to cut the child down he pulled out a small dagger (which Thrain and Frerin both marvelled at in amazement) and cut the rope. He lowered it gently so that Thrain didn’t just drop to the ground and possibly break a few bones.

When his brother touched the Earth again Frerin tackled him into a hug.

 _“I told you Mither Chubb’th trapth worked!”_ he huffed when he pulled back. Thrain smiled sheepishly, and then looked over at the Dwarf that was watching them.

“Thank you,” he mumbled out. Frerin beamed as well.

“You thaved Thrain’th life!” he said in awe. The Dwarf said nothing for a moment, before speaking slowly.

“Where are your parents?” he asked. The Dwarf’s voice made both children stare in amazement, having never heard something so low. It took both of them a moment before they answered the question asked of them.

“Oh! Our Da is at home right now making supper!” Thrain answered.

“You want to meet him?” Frerin questioned. The two children didn’t even allow the Dwarf to answer before they each grabbed one of his hands and pulled him along.

“Our Da thaid our other Da wath a Dwarf, like you!” Frerin started saying.

“But he passed away before we were born, so we didn’t know him. Did you know our Da?” Thrain asked.

The Dwarf didn’t answer for a moment.

“I wath named after our other Da,” Frerin puffed up with pride. “Thrain wath named after our grand Da. He pathed away when our other Da did.”

The Dwarf still hadn’t spoken. Frerin looked at Thrain, trying to figure out why the Dwarf was so silent. Thrain shrugged his shoulders and then looked up at the Dwarf.

“What’s your name Mister?” he inquired. _That_ was a question the Dwarf could answer apparently, for he gruffed out a single reply.

“Thorin.”

Frerin and Thrain looked excited at finally knowing something else about the Dwarf.

“Well, I’m Frerin! And thith ith Thrain!” Frerin stated proudly. Thrain pouted.

“I can introduce myself, Frerin!” he huffed.

Frerin didn’t get a chance to reply as both he and his brother suddenly fell to the ground. They both looked up to see that Mister Thorin had stopped walking and was staring at the two of them extremely hard. It was uncomfortable, like when their Aunt Lobelia stared them down from across the marketplace. It pinned both boys to the spot and they were starting to feel uncomfortable when Thorin suddenly started walking again.

“Take me to see your father,” he requested. Thrain and Frerin looked at each other, confused, but their excitement was renewed. "Please."

“I think you’ll like our Da!” Frerin said.

“Yeah, he’s the best Da ever!” Thrain added on.

Thorin simply hummed as the two children babbled on about their other parent, wanting to meet this Bilbo Baggins character to make sure that this was really his deceased brother’s husband.


	3. Introduce Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Will you?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un-beta'd. All mistakes are mine.

A knock at his front door had Bilbo looking up from what he was doing. He had been making a fresh fruit salad as dessert for supper. He was slow roasting the pig he’d paid for in the oven along with a rib roast he’d been saving for a special occasion. He’d made spicy chicken soup with hot peppers picked just for the occasion by old Gaffer Gamgee (the soup was for Frerin mainly; he enjoyed it much more than his brother). There were a few other dishes, such as garlic mashed potatoes and he’d even went ahead and made his father’s famous sweet bread to go along with everything.

Another knock sounded at the door and Bilbo quickly placed the slices of watermelon on his cutting board into a bowl. He hurried over to the door, just barely remembering to take off his apron, and cleared his throat. He put on a big smile and then pulled the door open, a polite greeting on his tongue.

“Hullo, very nice to meet you, I’m Bilbo Baggins,” he said. The Dwarves at his front door looked at him in curiosity.

“Very polite isn’t he?” one of them whispered.

“Extremely, it’s a little weird, isn’t it?” another asked.

“Possibly; we didn’t get a chance to find out on our way,” a third added in.

Bilbo let out a rather loud “ahem” and suddenly remembered why it was he had so little interaction with Dwarves in the past (aside from his and his late husband’s wedding). They were rather rude beings that had no qualms with speaking their minds about this or that topic. It honestly drove Bilbo slightly crazy sometimes; Frerin had been the same in the beginning of their relationship until he learned (the hard way) what politeness was. His boys were the same way sometimes (until Bilbo reminded them that they did indeed have manners).

There were only about five or so Dwarves at his door, so Bilbo assumed they were all there was of the Caravan. He invited them in, smiling amicably still, and offered to take their cloaks.

“Thank you, lad, it’d be much appreciated,” the eldest looking one of the five said. He took off his cloak and handed it off to Bilbo, and the rest followed suit. The others included a rather tall and intimidating Dwarf whose head was covered in inky black runes- tattoos, Bilbo recognized them as. Bilbo averted his gaze when the Dwarf looked at him, and instead settled his eyes on the three other Dwarves.

They seemed young by Dwarven standards, one of them with bright red hair and a shy smile. He placed his own cloak over the other two, and nodded his head politely as he followed the others. The other two Dwarves quickly surrounded poor Bilbo, talking a mile a minute each. One had dark brown hair and blue eyes, eyes that reminded Bilbo of his own sons’. The other had gold hair and features very much similar to his deceased husband’s, and so Bilbo figured out quite quickly that these two were Frerin’s nephews, and by extension his own nephews.

“We remember you from the wedding!” the brown haired one tittered excitedly.

“We were both younger then, but it would be hard to forget a face such as yours; you were very nice to us,” the gold haired one continued.

“And our Uncle seemed very smitten with you.” The brown haired one smiled and then looked to the cloaks in Bilbo’s hands. “We’ll take those for you!”

Bilbo was prepared to protest when the gold haired one took the cloaks from his hands and went with the brown haired one in search of his cloak closet. He watched them with something of a fond look in his eyes, memories of two spritely young Dwarf boys returning to his mind. They had caused a lot of trouble for him and his parents (more so his father than his mother) at his wedding; Bilbo didn’t know how he could have possibly forgotten them.

“Well, I have supper cooking now. You’ve actually caught me at a bit of a bad time, sorry,” he walked into the dining room saying, where the other three Dwarves had seated themselves at the table. “In the meantime, might I know your names? I’m Bilbo.”

The three Dwarves stared at him a moment before the older, white haired one chuckled a bit. “I’m surprised you’ve forgotten us.”

Bilbo racked his brain to possibly remember the two of them. It took quite a bit of thinking before he could place their faces in his mind, but when he did, his smile grew impossibly wider.

“Balin and Dwalin,” he stated, “though I don’t quite remember who is who.”

“It’s alright. It has been sixteen years since we’ve last seen each other,” the older one nodded. “Balin, at your service.”

“Dwalin,” the tattooed Dwarf gruffed. “Nice meetin’ ya’.”

Bilbo inclined his head, and then turned to the red-haired Dwarf. This one had pulled out a quill and parchment along with an ink well, and was writing something out.

“I’m sorry, I don’t quite remember you from the wedding,” he apologized. The red haired Dwarf looked up from his parchment and then shook his head quickly.

“Oh, no, it’s fine. I wasn’t at the wedding,” he clarified. Bilbo made a small noise of understanding. “I’m Ori.”

“Bilbo, at your service.” Bilbo smiled again and then looked around. His two nephews hadn’t come back just yet. He excused himself and headed out of the room in the direction he’d last seen them going in. He found the two in the sitting room, looking at his pictures and portraits on the walls. They were whispering furiously about something and Bilbo took a moment to rack his brain for their names.

“...Fili and Kili?” he said, though it seemed more like a question somehow with the way he’d stated it. The pair jumped and looked back at Bilbo, before they were quickly moving over to him.

“You remembered our names!” the brown haired one (Bilbo _believed_ he was Kili) exclaimed.

“Well, yes, of course, you caused me no end of trouble,” Bilbo rose an eyebrow. The gold haired one snickered before glancing back at the mantlepiece. Bilbo saw where his eyes wandered to and smiled fondly.

“Curious about those two boys, aren’t you?” he asked. The gold haired one (Fili, Bilbo remembered now because _F_ ili had the same hair as _F_ rerin) nodded a bit.

“Well, they’re—” Bilbo didn’t get a chance to tell him as another knock sounded at his door. Frowning a bit, he turned and looked toward said door. He’d originally figured that the five Dwarves already in his home would be it, but it seemed that was not the case. He excused himself from Fili and Kili and hurried over to the door, pulling it open, this time finding four Dwarves on his step.

“Evenin’!” the one in front greeted. He wore an odd hat on his head with flaps that covered his ears, and his eyes were a warm brown that conveyed genuine happiness. Bilbo was surprised to see someone with so much mirth.

The one behind him was who really caught Bilbo off guard, though. His hair was black, with white streaking all through out. But what made Bilbo stare was the axe head embedded in his forehead. It eclipsed everything else about the Dwarf, and he knew it was rude to stare and so averted his gaze quickly, looking to another one.

This one looked more like a Hobbit than a Dwarf (minus the ears and feet). He was very round, as though he had been stuffed full of food and proud for it. He watched Bilbo with something of a gleam in his eye, though why he had that gleam Bilbo could only make a few guesses. He tilted his head at Bilbo in greeting, and Bilbo repeated the action.

The last Dwarf made Bilbo do something of a double take. He was sure he’d seen this one before. Possibly with slightly redder hair. Without the ear trumpet maybe.

“Glo—?” the name started on his tongue but the Dwarf simply shook his head.

“Yer thinkin’ of my brother, lad! I had to miss the wedding, sadly, but I’m Oin,” the silver haired Dwarf greeted. Bilbo made a noise of understanding, and then took a step back. Well, there were Dwarves in his home, he may as well make use of some of them.

“Fili! Kili! Come here please,” he called.

The two came rushing in, and judging by the looks on their faces, they’d already broken something. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes in a fond manner, he waved for them to hurry over. They came over and smiled wide smiles at seeing the other Dwarves.

“Boys,” the one in front tilted his head a bit.

“Bofur! Come see this, these boys look exactly like our Uncle!” Kili exclaimed.

The one with the hat rose an eyebrow, but looked to the one with the axe in his head. He signed something (in Iglishmek, Bilbo remembered, because Frerin had taught him a few things about Dwarven culture and heritage) and then followed behind Kili, who lead them into the sitting room. Bilbo stopped Fili before he could leave as well.

“Would you mind taking their cloaks? I have supper to finish up,” he requested. Fili smiled a broad smile.

“Sure, Uncle Bilbo!” he turned to Oin and the rounder Dwarf, taking their cloaks and then heading off to the sitting room to place them down (Bilbo assumed Fili and Kili had never found the cloak closet).

“This way; the others are waiting in the dining room,” Bilbo led them into said room, and as he did so he turned to the round Dwarf.

“I’m sorry but—” the Dwarf held up a hand, smiling jovially.

“It’s alright. My brother, cousin, and I weren’t at the wedding either. I’m Bombur. My brother is Bofur. We take care of our cousin, Bifur,” he said. Bilbo was startled at all the sudden information, but he did his best to not look outwardly so. He also placed faces to names. He figured the Dwarf with the axe in his head must have been Bifur, and the Dwarf with the hat (and since when did Dwarves wear hats?) must have been Bofur.

“I’ll just finish up in the kitchen—” a resounding knock on the door made Bilbo sigh, “Or I won’t.” He smiled apologetically but Bombur’s eyes just seemed to twinkle more.

“Don’t worry. Show me the kitchen, pantry, and menu. I’ll finish up for you,” he offered.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly—”

Another knock sounded at the door, making Bilbo sigh. Bombur merely chuckled a bit and patted him on the back.

“Most everything’s almost finished. I just need to finish up the desserts. I’ll be back to show you what to do.” Bombur nodded his head at him before heading in the direction of the kitchen. Bilbo didn’t even question how he knew the way there; just like Hobbits, Bilbo was sure that Bombur could simply follow the smells into the kitchen.

Another, more ferocious knock sounded at the door and when Bilbo got to it it was suddenly pushed open. Astonished and more than a little upset at the fact that one of the Dwarves had just _picked his lock_ , Bilbo resisted the urge to take the door itself and slam it in their faces, if only because Gloin was with the other two Dwarves.

“Balbo!” the red haired warrior shouted, pulling Bilbo into a tight hug. Bilbo coughed when he was released, wondering if his lungs had been completely crushed.

“It’s-” he coughed again, “Bilbo.”

“Right, right,” Gloin waved it off. “It’s nice to see you again after all these years. After the Battle, we never got a reply from you about your answer. So we figured you didn’t want to come with us.”

Bilbo paused, his brow furrowing, confusion etched onto his features. His answer? His answer to what exactly? The messenger that came to his door hadn’t said anything aside from “he died honorably,” and then left Bilbo with a simple lock of hair—Frerin’s marriage braid. It had been the only thing left to him of his husband’s, and he’d kept it preserved in a special box. He allowed the boys to see it only once every year; on their birthday, when they felt the most upset about not having their other Da around.

“What are you—” he was cut off by the other two Dwarves. One was silver haired and smiled politely though with an air of slight impatience; the other was the one that had picked Bilbo’s lock, he was sure of it.

“Oh! Yes, yes, come in,” he stepped out of the way, and Gloin walked in, laughing heartily when he spotted his brother as well as Dwalin. Bilbo looked to the other two Dwarves.

“Should probably change the locks, mate,” the red haired Dwarf (Bilbo completely ignored the fashion in which he wore his hair; he’d quickly learned not to question a Dwarf’s styling techniques if he wished to not insult them) stepped inside, handing off his cloak.

The silver haired Dwarf (with the intricate braiding that even Bilbo had to admire, after all those days spent undoing and redoing his own husband’s braids) sighed and stepped in as well.

“I’m sorry about my brother, Nori. He’s not the most well-behaved,” the Dwarf glared after the other one, and then looked at Bilbo again, smiling more kindly now. “I’m Dori.”

Bilbo tilted his head a bit in curiosity, before asking, “Are you Ori’s brother?”

Dori’s eyes practically lit up at the mention of the younger Dwarf. “Why, yes, I am! He’s the youngest of us three, sweet lad, really.”

Bilbo nodded, almost understanding what Dori meant. He could almost feel the brotherly love coming off Dori in waves, familiar with it after years of being around cousins he considered siblings and watching his own sons.

And speaking of his sons, it really was getting late. Where were they?

“Have a seat anywhere, though the dining room is a favoured spot right now. Just through there,” he pointed in the direction of the dining room and Dori nodded his head. Once he was gone, Bilbo stepped outside of his home and looked around.

The sun had set, and the sky was a beautiful pinkish colour. The glow made the trees look greener than usual, and it made him wish he could sketch. The image really was beautiful. But he wasn’t as concerned with it right now, as his boys had yet to come home. They _should_ have been back hours ago, or possibly have arrived with the Dwarves if they were going to meet them. His brow furrowed, he looked down the lane and spotted a familiar grey figure.

“Gandalf!” he called.

“Mister Baggins!” Gandalf called back, his eyes sparkling a bit. When he’d reached the front door he went to duck inside, only Bilbo stopped him.

“Have you seen Frerin and Thrain? They were supposed to be back before sunset,” he asked. Gandalf hum, and the sparkling in his eyes grew the tiniest bit.

“I wouldn’t worry too much, Bilbo Baggins,” he grinned, trying to placate the Hobbit but only making him the slightest bit more worried, “your boys are with someone both you and I can trust.”

Bilbo didn’t feel too comforted by the words, but he supposed that if Gandalf could trust this person, so could he. Still, he lingered on his doorstep, looking out over the horizon again, trying to catch a glimpse of his children even though he knew he wouldn’t. He didn’t like it when they were home late; they were still children after all. But supper wasn’t even ready yet and probably wouldn’t be completely ready for another hour or so. If they weren’t home in thirty minutes, he would go out and find them himself.

Re-entering his home, Bilbo headed toward the kitchen to show Bombur what he needed help with. The fruit pie and muffins weren’t going to cook themselves.

[][][][][]

Bilbo was just putting the finishing touches on the last of his blackberry tarts when he heard the front door open. Knowing only two individuals that would simply push the door open without knocking, he set down the tart he’d had in his hand and wiped his hands on his apron. Hurrying, he went to the door and found his two lovely boys coming with— _another Dwarf?_

 _This had better be the last,_ Bilbo thought to himself, _Otherwise we won’t have enough food for dinner!_

“Boys!” Bilbo scolded, hands on his hips. Frerin and Thrain jumped, looking around, and then shouted in glee when they spotted Bilbo.

“Da!” they both yelled as they barreled into their father. Bilbo nearly fell from the force of it. When he found his balance again, he hefted both boys into his arms for a proper hug. They giggled when he kissed their cheeks, and then got down excitedly.

“Where have the two of you been?” he asked them. They looked at each other and then back at him.

“You’ll never believe what happened to me today!” Thrain started saying. Frerin started talking a mile a minute.

“It wath thooooo great! Thrain got thuck in a tree and couldn’t get down and thought he wath gonna hafta thay up there forever—”

 _“Hey!”_ Thrain shouted, blushing, “You weren’t supposed to say that!”

Frerin ignored him and kept going, “but I went and ran and ran to get help and ran into Mither Thorin and he thaved Thrain from turning into an ent!”

Bilbo’s brow furrowed. “Mister Thorin?”

“That would be me.”

The new voice reminded Bilbo that his boys had entered their home with a Dwarf, and he looked up finally to get a good look at his face—

—and immediately placed a name to the stony faced and grumpy brother-in-law he hadn’t seen in a little over sixteen years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow, Bilbo sure did get cut off a lot!
> 
> I have the entire story outlined, so hopefully I'll be able to get through it. Though, I won't say no to a suggestion or two to improve the story a bit!
> 
> Because I have it outlined, there are certain objectives I have to meet, and introduce all the Dwarves in one chapter was the objective of this chapter.


	4. Come With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Please"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did this chapter a little differently this go round and tried my hand at a bit of angst, though I don't think I'm very good at it.
> 
> I appreciate all the positive feedback! Really and truly, I do. It's really motivating me to make these every-other-day updates, ya know?
> 
> I really, really, hope you all enjoy it!

_“Would you ever come to my home with me?”_

_The question had caught Bilbo completely off guard. He supposed he should have seen it coming; even though they were living comfortably in the Shire, it was almost inevitable that Frerin would want to take Bilbo to see his homeland. Though, he had never thought about how he would reply to the question._

_“Well,” he cleared his throat. “Yes, I suppose I would.”_

_Because if he was honest with himself, he would follow Frerin as far as he could go. To the ends of Middle-Earth and even to Mordor itself if he had to. If Frerin went he would to, no matter what happened._

_“I want to take you, some day,” Frerin sighed, leaning his head back in Bilbo’s lap. “But I’m not sure if a cold mountain could be a home for a Hobbit.”_

_Bilbo, smiling down at Frerin, placed the flower crown of forget-me-nots onto his Dwarf’s head. Frerin’s hand came up and took Bilbo’s lacing their fingers together._

_“If you’re there, then it will be home enough for me.”_

[][][][][]

Thorin seemed almost nothing like Frerin, in appearance at least. Frerin’s hair had been as golden as the sun, while Thorin’s was more like the night sky, dark, with streaks of white throughout it. Their eyes shared the same blue, but where Frerin’s blue eyes had been bright and full of happiness, Thorin’s seemed more sombre, like he had seen too much sorrow and pain in his life.

 _Well,_ Bilbo thought, _That makes sense, doesn’t it? To lose so much family, so fast…_

But it seemed to make Thorin stronger, and that’s what really made Bilbo curious about his brother-in-law.

“Bilbo Baggins,” Thorin tipped his head forward in something of a bow. Bilbo repeated the action.

“Thorin.” He smiled a bit. Frerin and Thrain tugged at Bilbo’s hands.

“Da! Mither Thorin thaid he wath a King! Ith that true?” Frerin asked.

“Mister Thorin wouldn’t lie, Frerin,” Thrain said, as if it were obvious. He looked up at Bilbo. “Can we show him our toys Da? Please?”

“Pleathe, Da? Pleathe, pleathe, pleathe?”

Bilbo looked slightly astonished, and then looked up at Thorin. Thorin was watching him with a curious look in his eyes, as if he too were wondering just what Bilbo would say.

“After- after supper, alright? Why don’t you two go set the table and greet the other Dwarves, hmm?” he smiled again when Frerin and Thrain’s eyes went wide. The two looked at each other and then rushed into the dining room. The astonished shouts of the Dwarves and happy yelling from his children made Bilbo chuckle, but he didn’t forget what his boys had just said. He turned back to Thorin, whose own eyes had softened a bit when the two children had run off.

“Can we- speak? In private maybe?” Bilbo looked around. “There’s apparently a lot that my husband didn’t tell me.”

“Of course,” Thorin followed Bilbo into Bilbo’s study. He offered the Dwarf a seat and sat down himself, taking a deep breath.

“Are you really?” he asked, jumping straight in.

“Am I what?” Thorin frowned, “A King?”

“Yes.”

“I am.”

Bilbo felt his chest constrict a bit. His husband had never said anything about being royalty.

“Did that make him- did that make Frerin a-”

“A Prince? Yes. Very technically, you were- you are his Prince Consort,” Thorin explained. “Your children, Frerin and Thrain, they are also Princes of Erebor, just as Fili and Kili are.”

Bilbo took a deep breath, trying to think. He stood and walked in a circle, trying to calm his mind a bit. He could practically _feel_ Frerin looking at him from wherever he was, bless his soul, apologising for not telling him about being a _Prince_ of all things.

“I’ve- we’ve been wondering, all this time, about why you had not replied to our missive,” Thorin cleared his throat a bit. “Was our offer not appealing then because of your…?”

Bilbo, confused, knitted his eyebrows together. “Missive? What missive?”

“A royal messenger was sent to you with an invite to attend the formal ceremony for Frerin. When he returned, it was without your reply. We assumed you did not want to leave, and now I see why.” Thorin gestured towards the dining room, where the sounds of merrymaking could be hard, no doubt caused by the happiness from the Dwarves, who got to see to wee lads that were half Dwarf and extremely spritely.

“Your Majesty-”

“Thorin is fine, we are kin after all.” Thorin smiled a small, soft, smile. Bilbo felt slightly flustered at seeing it, because the family resemblance seemed to break through in that moment.

“Thorin, I never received any word about coming to Erebor from a messenger. When the Dwarf arrived, he simply told me that Frerin had died honourably and left with me his marriage braid,” Bilbo told him in full. “There was never any mention of coming to live in Erebor.”

Thorin’s smile immediately turned into a frown, and he said a foul word in Khuzdul that Bilbo really didn’t want his boys repeating. He was quite familiar with all of the Khuzdul curses and swears thanks to his late husband, who Bilbo had forced to tell him what each and every one meant. This one involved someone’s mother and was downright awful.

“What doeth that mean?”

And there were the exact little ones he didn’t want hearing those words.

“Yes, Uncle, tell him what it means,” snickered the voice of an older Dwarf, who was most certainly Kili encouraging bad behaviour.

“No, no, there will be no explaining of those words at this age,” Bilbo jumped up quickly, rounding on his little ones and his nephews. He gave Kili a scolding glare that made the brown haired Dwarf quickly duck from the room, and then looked down at Frerin and Thrain, who were as curious as ever.

“Did Mister Thorin say a bad word?” Thrain asked, wrinkling his little nose and looking much like Bilbo when he did it.

“Indeed he did, little one, a word he won’t be saying again. Isn’t that right, Mister Thorin?” Bilbo looked to Thorin, who already had an armful of young fauntling. Frerin was scrutinizing Thorin’s face, examining everything from his hair to his chin. He then looked over at Thrain. He looked back and forth for a bit before settling his eyes on Thrain.

“You look like Mither Thorin,” he decided.

Thrain looked at Thorin and then up at Bilbo. “Nu uh. I look like Da.”

But Frerin shook his head, crossing his arms. Bilbo chuckled at his stubbornness in his decision, and smiled softly at the two.

“Boys, Mister Thorin is your other father’s brother. He’s your Uncle,” he explained to the two. Thrain and Frerin’s eyes went impossibly wide, and it wasn’t long before Thrain was clamboring up into Thorin’s arms as well.

“Really? Really, really?” he asked.

“Yes. Your other father was my younger brother. We were like the two of you, though not twins,” Thorin told them.

Thrain and Frerin both made noises of excitement and delight, and immediately wrapped their small arms around Thorin’s neck in a tight hug. Thorin seemed shocked at it, but he held tight to the two young boys. When they leaned back, they looked up at him as if he had forged the stars themselves.

“Can we call you Uncle Thorin?” Frerin asked, bouncing in Thorin’s arms.

“Of course. Fili and Kili do the same,” Thorin smiled. The two boys looked at each other again, connecting dots in their pretty little heads, and then hurried to get down in order to run and attack Fili and Kili as well.

Bilbo smiled as they ran from the room, and then sighed. He looked over at Thorin.

“I’ll check on supper and then we can talk more about… this,” he said.

“Master Baggins,” Thorin called, when the Hobbit was prepared to turn and leave the room. “We’ve stopped here today to find out if- if you and your children would come with us. To Erebor.”

Bilbo felt his lungs constrict, because he knew that the reason would come out eventually.

[][][][][]

_Bilbo stood in front of his smial with his husband, looking up into what seemed like endlessly sky blue eyes. Frerin leaned forward a bit and kissed him, and Bilbo held on as if this would keep Frerin from going. It wouldn’t._

_“I’ve a duty to my people, zundushel, I must leave,” Frerin sighed for what seemed like the hundredth time. They’d talked about this the night before._

_“Then why can’t I go with you? I could do- something!” Bilbo argued. Frerin shook his head immediately._

_“I’ll not have you in the midst of battle should things come to it. I’d not be able to forgive myself if something were to happen to you.”_

_Bilbo looked away, saying a small, “I understand,” even though he really didn’t. He was supposed to follow Frerin to the ends of Middle-Earth, to Mordor and back again. Why couldn’t he follow him to Moria?_

_“Hey,” Frerin tilted Bilbo’s face towards his own and smiled so brightly he outshined the sun―at least in Bilbo’s eyes. He managed a tiny smile of his own as well._

_“I’ll return. You get very cold at night without me beside you,” he chuckled. Bilbo chuckled as well, the sound bubbling up from his very soul. They shared one more kiss, and then Frerin stepped out of their front gate._

_For the last time._

[][][][][]

Dinner certainly was an interesting affair. Dwarves, apparently, had little to no manners. The most well-behaved of them was Thorin, who scolded the others whenever they started showing Frerin and Thrain things that could most certainly get them in trouble with their Da. Frerin and Thrain were excited, and joined in when the Dwarves started to throw food to each other to catch in their mouths. Bilbo allowed them to have their fun for a time, just until they started to get a bit messy.

Though, when the Dwarves decided to have something of a burping contest, Bilbo quickly told Frerin and Thrain that they would _not_ be joining in for this bit. Disappointed but most certainly not disheartened, the two rooted for their favourites to win (Frerin’s was Bombur; he was quite attached to the large Dwarf already, while Thrain’s was Bifur, as he found the Dwarf’s headwound to be extremely fascinating. Bifur didn’t seem to mind when he spent most of dinner with a child in his lap). When dessert rolled around, Frerin and Thrain were doubly excited.

“Our Da makes the best desserts!” Thrain had declared for all the others to hear.

“Yep!” Frerin agreed, nodding, “No one’th ith better than Da’th!”

“Really now, lads?” Gloin laughed, humoring the two. “Well, we’ll just have to make sure of that!”

The rest of the Dwarves agreed, and Bilbo blushed the tiniest bit when Bombur took up for him as well.

“I’ve had my own taste of Mister Baggins’ desserts,” he stated, patting Frerin’s head. Frerin giggled and beamed with pride. “And I’d say they most certainly are some of the best I’ve had in a long while.”

“Why don’t we taste for ourselves?” Bofur proposed, and Bilbo shook his head fondly. He went to the kitchen and had Frerin and Thrain help him bring out the desserts. They set them out on the table, and Bilbo felt quite a bit of pride when the Dwarves gawked at all the pastries and sweets he’d made.

“My, are those pumpkin cookies?” Balin asked. Bilbo nodded.

“That’s right. I remembered that one of you liked them from the wedding,” he explained.

“You’ve certainly outdone yourself here. I don’t remember the food at the wedding being nearly this plentiful,” Thorin piped in.

“That’s because Hobbits enjoy their food and are quick to eat it up if you aren’t fast enough,” Bilbo laughed.

“Indeed they are, Master Baggins,” Gandalf agreed, taking a puff or two from his pipe.

The others dug in heartily, and they were all quick to find favourites. Bilbo made a mental note and checklist of who liked what for future record. He looked to Frerin and Thrain to make sure they hadn’t eaten too much, and saw that the two were already dozing after having simply eaten some of the fruit salad Bilbo had made. He decided that it was time for bed then.

“Would you mind helping me with the boys?” he inquired of Thorin, who was quick to stand and walk over to the two. He lifted Thrain into his arms and Bilbo picked up Frerin, the little ones clinging to each of them immediately.

They stopped off in the bathroom where Bilbo gave each of them a quick wipe down to remove any sticky remnants of dinner that might be all over them, and then he readied them for bed. Frerin and Thrain didn’t put up their usual token fuss, choosing instead to simply do as their Da told them. Once they were dressed for bed, Bilbo and Thorin moved the two children into their bedroom, and laid them down to sleep.

“Mither Thorin?” Frerin called sleepily before the two could leave the room.

“Yes, khajimith?” he asked.

“Can you tell uth a thory?”

Thorin looked at Bilbo. Bilbo smiled softly and then nodded, stepping out of the room to leave Thorin to tell them something that would most certainly lull them into sleep. Bilbo headed back to the dining room as he did so, and looked around to find the other Dwarves starting to doze as well.

“Well,” he cleared his throat, catching their attention. “It is getting late.”

“Indeed it is, lad,” Balin agreed. “We should all catch a bit of shut eye, don’t you think?”

Bilbo nodded, waiting for the Dwarves to move, and when they didn’t, he sighed.

“Would you all like to stay here?” he offered.

“Thought you’d never ask,” Nori grinned, and he stood stretching.

Bilbo helped the Dwarves get situated in the guest room and spare rooms, making sure they were all comfortable before returning to the boys’ room to retrieve Thorin. Thorin was simply watching them sleep when Bilbo cracked the door a bit to peek at them. The Dwarf glanced up and then stood, tugging the blankets up over the two boys a little further before following Bilbo from the room.

“There’s no other room aside from my own,” Bilbo said as an apology, “Though it’s very comfortable, I assure you.”

“It’s quite alright,” Thorin shook his head. “Thank you.”

They were silent as Bilbo lead Thorin to his bedroom, and he belatedly thought about the fact that this would be the first time he’s had a Dwarf in his bedroom since Frerin had been alive. When they arrived, Bilbo turned to Thorin.

“I-”

Thorin held up a hand.

“I will not rush you into a decision, Master Baggins-”

“Bilbo.” If Bilbo could call Thorin by his name, it was only right that Thorin could do the same.

“Bilbo. I will not rush you into a decision. We will be here for a fortnight; we hope to give you ample time to make a decision.”

Bilbo sighed. “I would go. Truly. But I have to consider what Frerin and Thrain would want.”

Thorin nodded his understanding, and said no more on the subject for the rest of the night.

[][][][][]

_A gentle knock at the door made Bilbo put down the book he was reading and stand, albeit on slightly wobbly legs. He’d received some very exciting news; news he couldn’t wait to share with Frerin upon his return. Oh, he would be so excited!_

_Bilbo opened his front door and frowned a bit when he saw a Dwarf, with deep brown hair and dark eyes, holding something wrapped tightly in cloth and a grim look in his eyes._

_“It was an honourable death,” the Dwarf said, “And he wanted you to have this.”_

_The Dwarf pressed the cloth into Bilbo’s hand and Bilbo unwrapped it with shaky fingers, not wanting to believe what couldn’t possibly be true. The item in his hands, however, told him otherwise._

_He had promised to come home._

_He had promised they would be together again._

_He had promised they would build a family together._

_He had promised._

_**He was gone.** _


	5. In Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I will"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! Thanks for the great feedback on the flashbacks, guys. I'll definitely have to incorporate more of them ^-^
> 
> This was really, really, hard to get out the last few days. I was finally able to get it out (with a flashback!) and then the words just started flowing.

_Bilbo gazed into the crib that housed his two sons. One was fast asleep-the golden haired one. The other, the one with brown-gold hair like his own, was staring up at him with unseeing dark hues. Bilbo knew that they would change with time, and he wondered if they would become more like his or like their late father’s._

_Bilbo sighed. The last six months had been complete shite (excuse his language). He had contemplated taking his own life too many times to count and the only thing that had stopped him each time was the life ( **lives** he would later find out) growing inside of him. Each time he thought of going out and wading into the Brandywine he would be stopped by a kick inside of himself, a reminder that he couldn’t simply kill the last remaining piece of his husband that he had._

_And thinking about his husband was how Bilbo came upon names for them, in that moment. The gold haired one would be Frerin II, and the brown haired one would be Thrain III, the second name only popping into his mind when he remembered Frerin I coming home in tears because his father had passed._

_Satisfied that the naming was done, Bilbo lifted Thrain III into his arms to put the little one to sleep._

[][][][][]

Two energetic boys came bounding into the bedroom one morning, shouting and giggling and running from an unknown threat. When Bilbo looked up (just in time to miss a sharp little elbow) he saw Fili and Kili come running in, also shouting and talking about “the tickle monster.” Thorin jerked awake immediately, hand going for the blade on the floor, before calming when he saw who it was that had come running in.

“Da! The monster’s gonna get us!” Thrain squealed, diving beneath the blankets and hiding. Frerin went for Thorin, clamboring into the man’s lap and hiding beneath his coat. Thorin rose an eyebrow at the antics, looking up at Fili and Kili who were both hesitating at this point.

“...They were awake this morning?” Fili said as something of an explanation. At Bilbos prompting smile, the two scurried in and made themselves comfortable on Bilbo’s bed. Kili went to grab at Thrain, who was squealing again while Frerin popped his little head out of Thorin’s coat. Fili went over to grab at home, only to be stopped when Frerin hid in Thorin’s coat again.

“Boys,” Bilbo called, and was slightly startled when all four looked up at him. He tried not to miss a beat though. “Have you had breakfast yet?”

“Nu uh!” Thrain and Frerin replied in unison.

“But Mither Bombur thaid he wath making pancaketh! I get to help!” Frerin stated proudly. He seemed to remember something after that and quickly hoped down from Thorin’s lap. He immediately went through the door, little feet pattering hard against the floor as he disappeared. Bilbo stared after him with a smile on his face. He looked at Thrain, who had climbed up onto Kili’s shoulders.

“And _you_ young Hobbit?” he rose an eyebrow. Thrain giggled a bit.

“Mister Dori promised to braid my hair,” he said matter-of-factly.

“Did he now?” Thorin had spoken up this time, seeming intrigued by the tidbit of information. “I think I shall help.”

Bilbo seemed astonished at both of them, Thrain for actually wanting the braids and Thorin for offering to help. Though really, Bilbo didn’t know if he _should_ be shocked at the fact that Thorin wanted to help; he honestly didn’t know Thorin well enough to make that call.

Pushing the thoughts to the back of his head, Bilbo sat up a bit more and then remembered he was in his night gown. Clearing his throat, he gestured toward the door.

“Off with you all, go on, I need to get changed,” he shooed.

Fili and Kili seemed confused for a moment before Thorin standing alerted them to what Bilbo meant. Quickly, they headed out the door, Thrain still on Kili’s shoulders, disappearing down the hall. Thorin hesitated in the doorway for a brief moment, glancing back at Bilbo, who had finally stood from the bed. Bilbo didn’t even notice his staring until he went toward his dresser. He glanced up briefly, and they locked eyes.

Bilbo gave Thorin a confused smile.

“Is there something wrong?” he asked. Thorin’s eyes stayed on him a moment longer before the Dwarf shook his head and stepped from the room.

“No. It is nothing,” his brother-in-law murmured as he closed the door. Bilbo’s brow furrowed in confusion but he thought no more of it.

[][][][][]

_“Brother, I’m never having children,” a young Frerin I said as he peered into the crib at his baby sister._

_Thorin looked over at him from where he was studying, and then shook his head._

_“You will,” he stated quite simply._

_“Will not,” Frerin I countered, walking away from the crib. “Babies are stinky and only cry and poop. I don’t want any.”_

_“Well you have to have kids. Dis is too young to have them and I’m not having them either,” Thorin huffed. When he said this, the young Dwarfling in the crib started to wail loudly, making her discomfort at being talked about known. Thorin jumped up from his seat immediately, walking over and picking the little girl up and rocking her. Dis reached a hand out and entangled her strong little fingers in Thorin’s hair and pulled. Thorin endured the pain._

_Frerin made a disgusted look. “They pull your hair too!”_

_“You used to do the same thing,” Thorin scoffed._

_“Did not,” Frerin denied._

_“Did too. You would do it all the time.”_

_Frerin scoffed, thinking the concept was completely outlandish, and went in the other direction, looking into Thorin’s history books while Thorin tended to their baby sister._

[][][][][]

“Ow!”

“Come now, young Thrain, you must stop moving.”

“But it hurts!”

“This is why I told you to let me comb your hair,” Bilbo grinned, watching as Dori pulled the comb through Thrain’s hair. Thorin looked pained to be watching the display. He had stated several times that there had to be easier ways of doing the task, but Dori had shaken his head.

“Not at the root,” he had sighed.

“But surely-”

“Not at the _root_ , Your Majesty. His hair is tangled at the roots. And you know what that means.” Dori had continued along with what he was doing.

Frerin had gone out with Oin and Gloin to pick flowers and herbs from the furthest edges of the Bag End Garden. Bilbo had permitted it because Frerin was the best person to guide them through the garden. Thrain had sat down with Dori to have his hair braided.

“I’m almost finished, and then we can start the actual braids. You’re doing very well,” Dori praised. That made Thrain sit still, the observation making him sit just a bit straighter. It was another time Bilbo wished he could capture the scene on paper. Maybe he could ask Ori. The young Dwarf seemed very capable in sketching.

They sat for a few minutes longer before Dori put the comb down. Thrain’s shoulders visibly sagged when the “evil” (Thrain’s own words) item was no longer running through his hair. Dori then began to gather up locks of hair to braid.

The entire ordeal took maybe four or five minutes, but once finished, Dori picked up the mirror and held it up so that Thrain could see himself. The young Hobbitling and smiled wide and then turned around, hugging the silver haired Dwarf and then running off to show his brother who would no doubt want the same braids.

Dori was simply surprised because the braids he had done were rather simple; four small braids, two on each side of his head, and something akin to a braided crown. He looked up at Bilbo, who merely shrugged.

“He’s quite taken with you all’s braids, I’m afraid,” he offered as the only explanation he could think of. Thorin made an approving noise and Bilbo chuckled when he saw the small, appreciative smile on Dori’s face.

[][][][][]

_“Da, wha’s this?” little Frerin II held up a necklace strung together on string, pieces of broken shells, teeth, and even thimbles and preserved flowers all bunched close together. Bilbo looked up from where he had been moving boxes, and smiled a bit._

_“That’s my memory necklace. I’ve not seen it in years,” he chuckled. He walked over to where Thrain III and Frerin II had been going through a box of his old toys. He noticed each had accumulated a pile of things next to themselves, and figured they had been going through and claiming things as their own._

_“Mim-Mam-Mimry?” Thrain III scrunched up his little nose as he tried to pronounce the word. Frerin II giggled at his brother’s face, and Thrain III pouted, pushing Frerin II. The other young child retaliated with his own shove, and Bilbo saw a fight evolving between them quickly and saw grabbed both, placing them on his lap._

_“Memory, dear hearts,” he corrected. “My memory necklace. Made of my small teeth.” He grinned, pointing at his teeth, and then poked Thrain III’s cheek._

_“The teeth you have now aren’t always there, and when they fall out, you make a necklace,” he explained further._

_Frerin II and Thrain III looked awestruck at the concept. Then they jumped down from Bilbo’s lap._

_“I wanna make a mimry necklace!”_

_“Me too! Me too!”_

[][][][][]

Thorin looked confused when Thrain pulled Frerin over to Bifur and Bofur and had the latter of the two present the injured Dwarf with something in his hands. Bofur seemed to be just as confused as Thorin at the antics, until Bilbo stepped into the room. He noticed what his children were doing and quickly hurried over, apologizing.

“Seems Thrain wants Bifur to help Frerin with his memory necklace,” he chuckled.

“A memory necklace?” Bofur asked, brows knit together.

“Uh huh! Frerin gets to make his first ‘cause his small teeth came out the day before the day before you guys got here,” Thrain elaborated, as if that made any sense.

“The day before the day before we got here?” Bofur said with a smile.

“The day before the day before you got here.” Thrain nodded his head, and then looked to Frerin who was still hiding behind his younger twin. Thrain pushed Frerin toward Bifur, who had been whittling away at a piece of wood. Bifur smiled at the young lad, who was shaking in his trousers.

“...Ineedhelpwithmymemorynecklathe,” he rushed out. Bifur made a face, and then reached toward Frerin. Frerin tried not to make it known how terrified he was, staying still as Bifur placed the boy on his knee. He held his hand out for the teeth and Frerin hesitated for a moment before dropping them into the Dwarf’s hand. Bifur examined them and then glanced up for guidance.

“You gotta put thuff on them,” Frerin mumbled, pointing at the two teeth. Bifur asked something in the rough language of the Dwarves (that made Frerin flinch a bit).

“He’s asking what kind of stuff, lad,” Bofur translated. Bifur nodded, and then waited for Frerin to answer.

“Well… You gotta put what happened on it. You _alwayth_ put how they came out on it.” Frerin picked up one of the teeth again and inspected it.

“You gotta- gotta put a T on thith one,” he nodded, placing it back in Bifur’s hand, slowly opening up now that he had something to talk about. “Becauthe Thrain helped it come out.”

At this Thrain smiled with pride. He pointed at the other one, ready to explain what it was supposed to have, but Frerin beat him to it.

“Thith one’th gotta have a pot!” he exclaimed.

“And why is that?” Bofur chuckled.

“Becauthe-” Frerin scrunched his face up a bit, little tongue poking out as he was thinking. “I had a pot on my head?”

That made Bofur, Bifur, and even Thorin laugh a bit. Bilbo watched from the doorway, a small smile on his face.

Bifur said something else in the language of the Dwarves, and Frerin didn’t flinch when he heard it this time, instead bouncing eagerly to find out what it meant.

“He’ll do it for ya,” Bofur smiled. Frerin grinned wide, showing the empty space where his teeth had come from, and then wrapped his arms around Bifur’s middle in a hug. He then jumped down from Bifur’s lap and went running from the room with Thrain.

Bifur looked a little stunned, but more than elated.

[][][][][]

Bilbo sighed as he looked at his calendar. The first week of the Dwarves being in the Shire was already gone and he hadn’t even sat the boys down to speak with them yet. He decided that today would be as good as any as Thorin had taken the others down to the marketplace to restock on supplies they would need, both in Bilbo’s smial and for the road.

Bilbo called Frerin and Thrain into the sitting room and had them sit on the comfy couch. He sat between them, an arm wrapped around each of them and they leaned into his embrace, the three of them staring into the fire. They stayed like that for a while, the two usually energetic boys understanding that their Da wanted to sit with them for a while and so managing to stay still and somehow entertained.

“Boys,” Bilbo said suddenly after a bit, “I’ve a question for you.”

“Yes, Da?” Thrain looked up at Bilbo, confused like he was when he and Frerin were in trouble.

“How would you feel if you got to see Thorin, Fili, Kili, and the others every day?”

The two young ones looked up at Bilbo in awe, the many fun times and situations playing out in their heads.

“It would be fun!” Frerin decided, grinning again. Bilbo saw a brief flash of his late husband in his son, and a smile of his own broke out over his face.

“Yeah! We could play games and tell stories all day!” Thrain agreed.

“That’s right,” Bilbo chuckled, before growing serious. “But what if to see them every day you had to go very far away and leave your other friends behind?”

At this the two’s faces instantly fell, as the thought of leaving Halfred and Azalea and Ilberic and Daisy behind made them sad. Those were their _best friends_ and they couldn’t just leave them! If they just up and left what would they think? What would Lola Brandybuck, the girl Frerin really, _really_ , liked, think if he suddenly left the Shire and her behind for the rest of their days? Would she find _another_ boy to like that wasn’t Frerin and grow up and marry him and have babies with instead?

And what about Thrain’s promise box? He and Ilberic had buried that box and promised to put new stuff in it _every year_ and if Thrain went away they couldn’t do that! They had to stay and keep their promise, that was the point of the _promise box!_

Bilbo could see the gears turning in Frerin and Thrain’s head, and smile softly. He gently brought them out of their heads with light shakes,

“We wouldn’t be gone forever. We would visit, every couple of years,” he said to try to appease them.

Frerin and Thrain looked at each other, as if not believing the words.

“Do we have to go?” Thrain asked, because one of them had to.

“Not at all, darling,” Bilbo kissed the top of his head. “I won’t make you if you don’t want to.”

The two were quiet for a moment, before looking up at Bilbo again.

“Where would we be going?” Frerin questioned.

“To live in the homeland of the Dwarves. Where your other father was born.”

That seemed to peak their interest, and they both hummed at each other. The concept was interesting; if they left the Shire (and all their friends and things) they would get to go and live where their other Da lived and grew up and travel and see interesting places and people and-

“Would we get to see Elves?” Thrain inquired, and now both were extremely interested.

“Well, let’s look at the maps and find out, hmm?”

Bilbo stood and pulled the two along, their tiny hands in his slightly larger ones, and took them into his study where he had a large map of what Middle-Earth looked like hanging on the wall. He helped them get better leverage to see it, and pointed to the places where they knew there were Elves.

“The Valley of Imladrith!” Frerin pointed, which was just before the Misty Mountains. “We could go there and thee the Elf Lord like grandma did!”

“That’s right,” Bilbo chuckled.

“And the Greenwood!” Thrain put his finger on the expanse of forest, and then pretended to shoot arrows. “That’s where the toughest Elves live!”

Bilbo nodded again, and then pointed to a single solitary peak of a mountain on the map. “That’s the Lonely Mountain. Where the Dwarves live.”

Frerin and Thrain stared at it, as if trying to divulge its secrets without leaving the Shire.

“...Can we think about it some?” Thrain asked. Frerin nodded his head in agreement, and Bilbo’s smile softened a bit.

“Of course. But remember, we won’t have to leave if you don’t want to. I won’t make you if you want to stay right here.” He kissed both of their foreheads, and then looked toward the doorway when he heard a knock and then the front door opening, signaling that the Dwarves were back.

Frerin and Thrain looked to him for permission to greet him, and when he nodded, they jumped down from their perches and went running toward the entry hall.

Bilbo watched them go, before glancing back at the map. The Lonely Mountain stood out more than anything to him, and he breathed a bit of a sigh before heading out of his study as well.

Thorin was surprised when Bilbo pulled him to the side to have a cup of tea with him. He sat with Bilbo on the couch, holding his teacup in his hand carefully, afraid he may break the fragile thing if he squeezed too tightly.

“I’ve talked with the boys,” Bilbo said after a few sips of tea. Thorin looked up at him.

“I see,” he replied, and made no indication that he planned to say anything else.

“They need time to think about if they want to go or not.”

Thorin felt something akin to constriction in his chest, but he didn’t give himself away.

“I understand.”

[][][][][]

_The wedding party was extravagant and wonderful, the music hearty, and the food absolutely delicious. And yet Thorin could focus on nothing but a single person._

_A person his brother had already claimed as his own._

_It wasn’t fair of him to say anything, especially since it was **Frerin** who had found the beauty and fallen in love with him first. He would not cause a feud between his brother and himself just because he thought he was in love._

_But Thorin continued to watch._

_The Hobbit seemed, in a few ways, just like Frerin. When he laughed, it was with his full body, when he smiled, it lit up the entire party, and he when he spoke, it was like he commanded attention, even with his soft voice. But in other ways he was nothing like his brother. The Hobbit had quick wit and a sharp tongue where Frerin had humor; he had curious brown eyes whereas Frerin had playful blue ones; and he was light on his feet where Frerin couldn’t be quiet to save his life._

_The only moment Thorin got with the Hobbit was when he was resting after a particularly exhilarating dance._

_“Not having fun?” the Hobbit asked when he saw Thorin simply sitting and looking glum. Thorin glanced at him and then back into the crowd so as not to be completely mesmerized by the Hobbit’s beautiful features._

_“It’s alright if you aren’t. Not everyone is a party person,” he chuckled. He looked out at the crowd himself, and smiled when he saw his husband dancing merrily with his mother._

_“...Are you coming to Erebor?” Thorin blurted out after something of an awkward (for him) silence. The Hobbit seemed startled at his question. He then laughed._

_“Maybe. If Frerin wants me to go. Possibly,” he answered. Thorin made some sort of grunting noise, hoping that Frerin **would** bring the Hobbit to the Lonely Mountain with him some day._

_Before Thorin could possibly strike up something akin to a different conversation, the Hobbit spotted his new nephews sneaking toward the Wandering Wizard’s wagon where there were fireworks. Quickly, he jumped up._

_“Please, enjoy yourself!” he said before running off._

_Thorin watched him go before realizing belatedly (and a bit dejectedly) that he hadn’t even caught his new brother-in-law’s name._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The timeline for this one sorta skips around a bit I think. The last scene is a bit of Thorin-angst, which I'm not admittedly good at, so sorry if it's not... good.


	6. We're Ready

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "To Leave"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was really a continuation of chapter 5 to be honest. I've got about 22 chapters planned for the entire story, but I'll be adding chapters in as I need to.

Thorin was sitting outside smoking his pipe when he heard the door creak open softly. Glancing up, he saw the two young ones, looking tired but frightened. Immediately Thorin perked up and stood, walking over to the two. Thrain looked more grumpy than afraid, but Frerin seemed to be genuinely scared of something. Thorin figured out without much help that the young Dwarfling had probably had a nightmare and then woken his brother up. He assumed they saw the lamp outside and came to the door in search of their father.

Nonetheless, Thorin scooped the two of them up into his arms, and though he knew he should have taken them back to their bedroom, he chose instead to walk back to his seat and sit. The night air was somewhat chilly, so he gathered Thrain and Frerin beneath his coat, making sure the two of them were covered.

They were all silent for a while, before Thorin spoke.

“What is bothering you, khajimith?” he asked.

Frerin squirmed a bit beneath Thorin’s coat, glancing at his brother, who was already once again fast asleep.

“I had a nightmare,” he mumbled. Ah, so Thorin had assumed correctly then.

“Of?”

Frerin shifted a bit again, looking up at Thorin this time. Tears had welled in his little blue hues, and Thorin reached a hand up to wipe at a single tear that had tried making its way down Frerin’s rounded cheek.

“D-Da left uth,” he said softly, hiccuping a bit. “H-He left uth becauthe he wanted to live with- with Dwarvth a-and we didn’t.”

Thorin felt his heart clench, the mere sight of Frerin in such a broken up state over Bilbo mentioning leaving with them too much for him to handle. Children were supposed to be joyous and full of life; to make a child cry was to attempt to shatter and corrupt their very souls.

“Shh, hush now, muhudith,” Thorin rubbed a soothing hand down Frerin’s back. “Your father wouldn’t leave the two of you behind just because you do not wish to come with us. He would not force you to leave; he would stay wherever the two of you are.”

“Told you…” The sleepy voice of Thrain sounded. Thorin glanced at him, smiling a bit, but Thrain kept his eyes closed, simply trying to get back to sleep.

“See, little one? Your brother knows he would not leave. Why would you think such a thing?” Thorin looked at Frerin again. Frerin was sniffling, wiping at the tears in his eyes and the snot in his nose.

“H-He thaid he wanted to-to thee our other Da’th h-home,” he said as justification.

“Yes, he did. But he would only go if you went with him. You and your brother are the center of his world; your happiness is what comes first to him.”

“That’s right,” a new voice sounded and the Dwarf and child looked up to see Bilbo standing in the doorway. He walked over and picked up Thrain, who immediately clung to his father. “And right now I know that a certain faunt should be in bed or he won’t be happy in the morning.”

Frerin looked up at Bilbo, sniffing again, and Bilbo tisked. He kneeled, pulling out a handkerchief and wiping up the snot on Frerin’s face. He smiled softly and stood again, taking a seat next to Thorin and placing the blanket around his shoulders over Thrain.

“I wouldn’t leave the two of you, my boy,” he sighed. “And if you don’t want to leave, you won’t have to. Understand?”

Frerin pressed himself further into Thorin’s side sniffling here and there. “Y-Yeth, Da…”

“Good.” Bilbo reached a hand over and pushed back some of the golden hair from Frerin’s face. Frerin squirmed when Bilbo did so, eventually smiling a bit. Thorin watched with a certain fond reminiscence in his eyes.

“Try to sleep. Tomorrow will be a big day,” Bilbo told the child.

Frerin didn’t need to be told twice.

[][][][][]

Bilbo rubbed a hand down his face after he and Thorin had placed the two children in their beds.

“I didn’t think it would bother them this much,” he expressed to the Dwarf as they walked down the hallway. “They seemed to take it so well when I asked.”

“They are still children, and the decision is life changing. Perhaps you would like if some of us spoke with them?” Thorin offered. Bilbo looked up and immediately shook his head.

“Oh, no, I couldn’t ask that of you!”

Thorin held up a hand, shaking his own head. “It’s not a task any of us would feel burdened with, M- Bilbo. Quite the contrary, actually, and as their uncle I feel it only right.”

Bilbo smiled softly, seeing the genuine concern for Thrain and Frerin in Thorin’s eyes. He briefly found himself wondering if his late husband would have the same look if he had lived long enough to see the boys born. He decided that he would, and his smile grew. Thorin would make a lovely father if he ever decided to have children.

“Thank you, Thorin.”

Thorin allowed a small smile to cross his own features.

“It is an honour, Bilbo.”

[][][][][]

Thrain and Frerin were sitting in the garden pulling weeds, a bi-weekly chore their Da had set them to when they were big enough to want coin to buy things. If they pulled all the weeds in the garden, their Da would give them two gold coins and fifteen silver ones. When they got thirty silver ones they could exchange them for one gold coin.

Right now, they were pulling the weeds plaguing their Da’s prized tomatoes. That was where Ori and Oin found them, hidden amongst the large tomato vines, uprooting evil weeds and ensuring that each vine was sufficiently watered. The two Dwarves couldn’t find them for a moment, lost as they were amongst leaves and vegetables much bigger than they.

“Lads! Where are ya?” Oin called. Thrain popped his little head up first, smiling when he spotted them.

“Frerin! It’s Mister Ori and Mister Oin!” he told his twin. Frerin looked up as well now, eyes bright when they landed on Oin. Since helping Oin and Gloin in the garden, he’d taken a bit of a shine to him (though not as much as he had Bombur; cooking had always been a fascination of Frerin’s. Medicine just seemed like cooking to help sick people!).

Thrain had fallen into the habit of following Ori around and trying to decipher the runes Ori wrote in all the time and asking for help with his own sketches. Even though he wasn’t old enough to be considered very skilled just yet, Thrain was quite the artist. Bilbo made it a point of telling him so every chance he could, encouraging his children in pursuing what they wanted.

“Hello, Thrain, Frerin,” Ori greeted the both of them.

“Your Da tells us you’re havin’ a bit of trouble,” Oin says, his ear trumpet pointed toward the two children. Thrain and Frerin looked at each other, confused, and then back to Oin.

“Mither Oin, aren’t you too old to pull weedth?” Frerin asked, head tilted a bit.

“Maybe he needs them?” Thrain whispered, or so he thought he did; even though Oin hadn’t, Ori heard him perfectly and chuckled softly.

“No, not with the garden,” he clarified. “With your decision.”

Still slightly confused, Frerin and Thrain tried to think of what it was Ori could mean. It took a moment, but eventually their little faces lit up and it occurred to them what Ori was hinting at.

“Oh! He meanth about leaving forever and ever,” Frerin told Thrain. Thrain’s nose wrinkled and he looked up at Ori and Oin.

“Are you gonna tell us we should leave our friends forever and ever?” he asked. Oin looked alarmed.

“Mahal, of course not, lad! You wouldn’t leave your friends forever,” he chided. Thrain looked down.

“But… isn’t that what happens when you leave? You never, ever, _ever_ , see them again, right?”

“Or-Or they forget about you and don’t remember your fathe!” Frerin piped in.

“And you break your promise.”

“And the pretty girl findth another huthband to marry.”

“And you can never, ever, ever play with your favourite friends ever again!”

Ori’s smile widened and he shook his head. Oin threw his head back in a hearty laugh, finding the two’s worries to be the cutest thing. They really did believe some ridiculous things!

“Of course not, boys,” Ori kneeled down so that he was eye level with Thrain and Frerin. “If the two of you left with us, you’d be able to come back and visit if you wanted.”

“Da said the same,” Thrain mumbled, but it was clear he was still skeptical.

“Well, your Da wouldn’t lie to you, would he?” Ori rose an eyebrow.

“No…” the two boys mumbled in unison.

“Erebor would have a lot to teach you lads,” Oin commented, “It would be good for you.”

“But we won’t push either of you to come with us,” Ori finished. He stood and looked up at the sky. He looked to Oin.

“Seems we should be heading to the market again soon as a last once over for supplies,” he mentioned.

“Right, right,” Oin nodded his agreement. He waved to Frerin and Thrain and then headed back toward the front entrance. Ori followed right after, leaving the boys to contemplate as they continued their task, many thoughts racing through their heads.

[][][][][]

_Belladonna kneeled in front of her son, a soft look in her eyes. Gandalf the Grey’s wagon was waiting for her to jump on it so that they could hit the road. She, however, had to speak with her son beforehand._

_“It’s not too late to change your mind, honeycomb,” she said, ruffling his hair gently. Bilbo stayed steadfastly next to Bungo, who was smiling softly himself._

_“B-But…” Bilbo mumbled, tears welling in his round eyes. Belladonna brought a hand up and wiped them away._

_“What’s wrong?” she asked him._

_Bilbo looked up at his father, who would support whatever decision he decided to make. He looked back at Belladonna, who completely ignored Gandalf’s incessant need to call for her to come along._

_“I-I wanna go,” Bilbo whispered, eyes wide. “I wanna go. But I’m scared.”_

_Belladonna smiled and leaned in, kissing Bilbo’s forehead. She stroked a thumb over his cheek._

_“It’s okay to be scared, honeycomb. It’s okay to be scared,” she promised._

_Bilbo believed her. If his Ma said it was okay, then it must have been, because his Ma was always right about these kinds of things. If she said it was okay, then it was okay._

_Bilbo stepped away from Bungo and into his mother’s arms, and as she sweeped him off his feet and they bid a goodbye to Bungo, he kept repeating her words in his mind._

_It’s okay to be scared._

_It’s okay._

**_It’s okay._ **

[][][][][]

Thrain and Frerin pushed the door to Bilbo’s study open slowly. It was the last night the Dwarves were going to be in Hobbiton. They would be leaving the next day, with or without the Hobbits they had been staying with.

Bilbo glanced up from the documents on his desk and smiled when he spotted his two boys. He sat back and gestured for them to come over and have a seat in his lap. They did, scampering over to their Da and clamboring up into his lap. They looked over the things on his desk, as they were often wont to do. Bilbo found it endearing, especially when they tried to understand the documents and give him suggestions on what should be said and who a letter should be sent to.

After the initial once over, the two young ones looked up at their Da, wide, round eyes holding an emotion Bilbo was not familiar with seeing in their depths.

“Da,” Frerin started, voice no louder than a murmur.

“Yes?” Bilbo replied, curious as to what they had to say.

“We were thinking,” Thrain continued, and then stopped, looking to Frerin. Bilbo noticed that it was one of the few times Thrain deferred completely to his older twin to do the talking.

“We wanna go with the Dwarvth,” Frerin said finally. “But-but we’re thcared.”

Bilbo was surprised to hear the words, and then his eyes turned soft. He wrapped his arms around the two of them, and hugged them tight. He felt his shirt dampen on his shoulders, and shushed his children when they began to cry.

“We’re scared, Da,” Thrain wept quietly.

“It’s okay,” Bilbo told him. “Shh, darling, it’s okay to be scared.”

Frerin and Thrain merely sniffed and wiped their little faces into Bilbo’s shirt. Bilbo didn’t even mind that it would have to go in the wash earlier than usual.

“We wanna go,” Frerin repeated. “We really, really, wanna go.”

“I understand, my boy. It’s alright. I’m not upset at either of you for being afraid,” Bilbo pulled back enough to look into their faces. His smile grew. “I was afraid of leaving once, too.”

Thrain and Frerin didn’t seem to believe it.

“But Da,” Frerin frowned, “You’re not afraid of _anything_.”

“Nothing!” Thrain added. Bilbo shook his head.

“I was. When I was your age. I was afraid to leave just like you. But my Ma, your grandmother, she told me it’s okay to be afraid. And it is,” he explained. He kissed their foreheads. “It’s okay.”

Frerin and Thrain nodded slowly, bringing their hands up to wipe at their eyes again.

“Can we go?” Thrain asked. “With Mister Thorin and Mister Bifur and Mister Ori and Mister Nori and Mister Dori and Mister Bofur and Mister Gloin and-”

Bilbo laughed, nodding his head. “Yes, my dear boy. We can.”

Frerin and Thrain looked happy to hear him say it. Bilbo stood up, placing the boys down and taking their hands. They looked confused for a moment about where they were going.

“Let’s go and tell the others the good news, shall we?” Bilbo proposed.

Thrain and Frerin couldn’t have agreed with the idea more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thrain and Frerin's (and Young!Bilbo in the flashback) fear of leaving is actually somewhat based on personal experience. I'm sure everyone can relate to the fear of going to a new place you've never been (or of someone you love leaving you behind). But always remember, it's okay to be scared.
> 
> Also, right now, everything about Thorin reminds Bilbo of Frerin. But that's about to change in the next chapter...
> 
> Sorry if the entire chapter seems Twins-centric. It's supposed to be about them making their big decision together with others helping them.


	7. Open Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is where we belong"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was reeeeeeeally hard to write for some reason, but I was determined to do it! The next chapter should flow a little more easy than this one did, so wish me luck writing that one!
> 
> I am really sorry this one is so short though >.

When Bilbo woke that morning, it was to shouting and movement. He sat up slowly, noticing that Thorin was already gone, and then it occurred to him what day it was. He took a single look out the window to see where the sun was and then jumped up from his bed. Quickly, he began moving about, dressing himself and mumbling. Oh dear, he should have been up ages ago! It was his own fault though; he should have prepared for if Thrain and Frerin said yes the night he’d told them just in case. Now they were going to run late, all because of him!

Opening the door to the bedroom, Bilbo stepped out and was immediately barreled into by his two energetic little tomatoes. Frerin and Thrain grinned wide, toothy (or slightly toothless) grins up at him before letting go and running off down the hall, prompting Bilbo to call to them to remember that there is _absolutely no running in this smial!_ The pattering of little feet died away and Bilbo sighed, smiling and shaking his head.

Remembering what he was supposed to do suddenly, Bilbo made his way to the entrance hall to leave, only to walk right into Fili and Kili, who were moving bags that looked suspiciously like Bilbo’s about.

“Oh, hi Uncle!” Kili smiled, “Slept well I hope?”

“As well as one can when worrying about moving hundreds of miles away,” Bilbo responded, but he managed a small smile. Fili and Kili responded with their own smiles, before continuing to move the bags they had in hand.

Bilbo himself took a breath and then hurried out of the Hobbit Hole, several letters in hand. He needed to deliver them to his cousins and grandparents, just to be sure that all of his affairs were in order. When he glanced back as he was going down the road, he smiled as he saw Dwarves working hard to help him pack up, even though it would put them a little behind schedule.

[][][][][]

_“Are you some great army commander?” Bilbo smiled as he leaned against Frerin. They were sitting on the bench in front of their home, having a smoke._

_“A commander? Mahal, no!” Frerin chuckled. He nosed at Bilbo’s curls, shaking his head._

_“No… That was always my brother. When we were children he would boss my sister and I around.” He sighed, and Bilbo felt the grip around his middle tighten._

_“I suppose it was only fitting.”_

_A distant look crossed his features, and Bilbo quickly tried to change the subject._

_“Let’s go inside, hm? I’ve got a cake baking and it should be done by now,” he offered. Frerin shook himself from his stupor and then grinned._

_“Raspberry?” he asked._

_Bilbo nodded and laughed when Frerin lifted him up and escorted him back into their home._

[][][][][]

Bilbo watched, entranced, as Thorin ordered the caravan about. He seemed to be the very image of regal authority and command, and Bilbo was enthralled by the way he seemed to take control with ease. And the others! They followed his commands to the letter with apparent glee. Bilbo was perplexed in their ways; he’d always been told (by other Dwarves and by Frerin himself) that Dwarves were incredibly stubborn creatures that hated being ordered about. The way Thorin commanded them with ease suggested otherwise.

Every Dwarf in the caravan had a specific task they had been set to do before the journey had begun. Thorin did continuous checks with each member of the caravan to ensure that everything was in place. Originally, they had intended to have only one join them on their journey. But the added members of the twins meant that they needed to not only take extra precautions, but ensure that they had enough rations for sixteen (they didn’t really count Gandalf because he wouldn’t be with them the entire trip. Plus, he’d already said they needn’t worry about him).

Thorin was checking over the caravan’s funds with Gloin when he suddenly had two Dwarflings attached to either of his legs. Gloin chuckled heartily when he saw the two lads, who were looking up at Thorin as if he’d put the sun in the sky.

“Seems the young ones are ready to leave!” Gloin stated. Frerin looked up at him, nodding eagerly.

“Da thaid there were ponieth!” Frerin bounced on his toes, looking around. Thorin nodded his head.

“There are indeed, little one,” he smiled. He looked around just then. “Ori and Fili are waiting for us to meet them with the ponies.”

“Maybe if you’re lucky, lads, your Da will let you ride a pony,” Gloin waggled his eyebrows in suggestion, and Thorin had a feeling _that_ conversation wouldn’t end in Frerin and Thrain’s favour.

“Mis- Uncle Thorin?” Thrain looked up at Thorin, possibly a little shyly. Thorin, surprised at the look, smiled softly and gently ruffled Thrain’s hair.

“Yes, gêdel?” he asked.

Thrain just stared up at him, awestruck, and then buried his head in Thorin’s furs, giggling. Frerin was grinning at his brother, and then holding his arms out to be picked up. Thorin indulged him, lifting Frerin into his arms. Thrain had already clambored up into Gloin’s arms, wanting to feel as if they were part of the conversation the adults were having. It didn’t take long before Gloin was talking about how his own son used to do the same.

Thorin was simply glad the two were enjoying themselves and finally completely okay with leaving.

[][][][][]

The Caravan met Fili and Ori in the meadow a ways away from Bilbo’s Hobbit Hole. Thrain and Frerin seemed to disappear immediately in the flowers, heading toward the two Dwarves while Thorin did a last minute once over. Bilbo stood at Balin’s side, talking about the boys’ studies and who would help in what areas.

“Frerin has particular trouble with math, so extra attention should be paid in that area. Thrain is a fast learner, so really what he needs is a challenge,” Bilbo was explaining. Balin was nodding, agreeing.

“Aye, I noticed that,” he hummed, “Just like Thorin and Frerin, they are.”

Bilbo perked up immediately at the mentioning of his late husband and brother-in-law. “Oh?” He glanced over at Thorin then, who was speaking with Bombur and Oin.

“Frerin always needed a challenge, and Thorin had troubles with his languages,” Balin chuckled. Bilbo watched Thorin, who mounted his steed and called for the rest of the caravan to do the same. Bilbo noticed Frerin and Thrain attempting to climb onto two ponies themselves. Quickly, he rushed over.

“Oh no,” he told them, grabbing both and walking over to the wagon they were using to carry supplies. “You two will be riding in the wagon, _not_ on any pony.”

Frerin and Thrain whined, wiggling in their Da’s hold. Bilbo deposits them in the wagon, and then mounts his own pony, directly next to them. Frerin and Thrain, pouty, watch Bilbo and then giggle when Bilbo shifts and nearly fall from the pony. Thorin is over in an instant, making sure Bilbo is stable and there to catch him before he fell. Bilbo, smiling, thanks him when he’s finally able to sit comfortably.

“If you’d like, I could ride with you,” Thorin offered.

“There’s a good idea,” Dwalin snorted. Thorin glared over at him. Dwalin merely grinned.

“It is a good idea for Thorin not to lead,” Gandalf agreed. Bilbo, confused, looked around, noticing Fili and Kili holding in laughter and Bofur with mirth in his eyes.

“What? Why?” he frowned.

Thrain and Frerin were equally as intrigued, though Thrain looked more huffy than interested that anyone would be laughing at his Uncle Thorin! (Frerin simply wanted to be in on the joke as well.)

“ _If anyone_ ,” Thorin growled out, and the caravan immediately quieted, “wishes to voice any complaints to myself leading, please do make it known.”

None of the Dwarves spoke up, but Frerin eventually broke the ice.

“How come Mith- Uncle Thorin can’t lead?” he asked.

“Well, musmasum, that’s because Uncle Thorin is, a bit-” Kili pauses in his sentence, looking at Fili. Fili grinned.

“Uncle’s a bit directionally challenged,” he finished. Thorin, looking a little murderous, turned away from everyone, heading to the front of the group.

Frerin and Thrain were disappointed, but before they could voice their distress, the wagon (which was being steered by Gandalf) lurched forward and the caravan was suddenly moving. Frerin and Thrain marvelled as the group was suddenly leaving the Shire (and everything Frerin and Thrain knew) behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I noticed that some of the words in the Neo-Khuzdul dictionary had changed, and that there were many new ones added. I was ecstatic! Some words I wanted to know that weren't in the old one were in the new one, cool right? But for those of us who haven't started combing through the updated version (like I have), here are the translations of the words used;
> 
> gêdel - joy of all joys  
> musmasum - tiny jewel
> 
> I dunno why, but I felt the need to mention that the Dwarves are comfortable with using a lot of khuzdul around Bilbo and the boys because a) Bilbo is the Prince Consort of their late Prince and would have eventually learned the language anyway, and b) because the twins are half Dwarven and would eventually have to learn it as well (as part of their heritage).
> 
> Look for the next chapter in a few days (hopefully)!


	8. Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Forever"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Look forward to it in a few days"
> 
> *looks back to twelve days ago* ...dafuq me?

_“Frerin,” Bilbo called suddenly, and his Dwarven husband stopped, turning around to see that Bilbo had stopped in his tracks. He hadn’t gone past the marking point that lead into Bree. He was simply standing there, unable to go further. Frerin went back to him immediately, taking Bilbo’s hands._

_“What’s the matter, Zunshel?” he asked. Bilbo wouldn’t meet his gaze._

_“It’s- I haven’t left the Shire since I was a tween,” he explained. “I don’t know if I can again. Not now that Mother and Father are gone.”_

_Frerin, frowning, brought Bilbo’s hands up, kissing them._

_“It’s alright. We can go back if you’d like,” he offered. Bilbo looked up finally, and then shook his head._

_“No… No, I want to keep going,” he took a deep breath. “I want to see Erebor.”_

_Frerin smiled, and pulled Bilbo pass the sign, catching his Hobbit when he tripped a bit over his own feet._

_“Then let’s see Erebor.”_

[][][][][]

Bilbo climbed down from his pony and stretched, smiling when he felt the bones popping in his back. For their first day on the road, they had gotten pretty far; pass the border of Bree and through a town or two. Thorin had gradually migrated back to where Bilbo was, slowly, until Balin was leading the caravan and Bilbo was on one side of the wagon while Thorin was on the other. The boys had been excited when Thorin had appeared, stopping their bugging of their father to ask their great Dwarf King Uncle a million questions.

Currently, however, the two boys were sleeping, having tired themselves out. The gentle sway of the wagon had lulled them to sleep, and Gandalf had smiled when he looked back to see the two young Baggins boys wrapped together, sleeping. Bilbo had thrown a blanket over them so that neither would catch a cold.

Bilbo looked around, sighing a bit. The area they were in felt familiar somehow; it felt like he’d been there before, in another lifetime, with another person. Like he had stepped into a former self and was walking around seeing through someone else’s eyes; hearing through someone else’s ears.

“Bilbo!”

Someone called his name, and when Bilbo looked back, he could’ve sworn he saw golden hair in the wind. When he blinked, all he saw was Thorin, smiling a confused smile in his direction. Bilbo shook himself out of his daze, and smiled back. He walked back over from where he had wandered away, his back turned on a tree with two sets of initials carved into it. The boys were awake.

[][][][][]

“Da,” Frerin was sitting on a log next to Bilbo, having finished his dinner already (they’d had stew for the first night and Thrain was still picking at his).

Bilbo hummed and glanced over. He noticed when Frerin suppressed a tiny yawn, and glanced over at Thrain. His other faunt’s eyelids were drooping, and Bilbo decided that it was time for bed.

“Da,” Frerin called again. Bilbo looked over at him once more.

“Yes, darling?” Bilbo took Thrain’s bowl out of his hands and set it down. Thrain didn’t even struggle as Bilbo pulled both him and Frerin into his arms.

“Can you tell uth a- a thory?” Frerin asked.

“You want me to tell you? Not Uncle Thorin or Mister Bofur or Mister Balin?” Bilbo smiled, lifting his two boys up and walking the short distance to the wagon.

“You haven’t told us one in forever,” Thrain mumbled as Bilbo placed the two of them into the wagon and put their blanket over them.

“Alright.” Bilbo settled down in the wagon next to his boys, and reached over to make sure they were both tucked in properly. “Why don’t I tell you the story of Great Uncle Bullroarer?”

[][][][][]

Once the boys were sleeping, Bilbo climbed down from the wagon and took up his seat around the fire again. Thorin had migrated over to his log, but so had Bofur.

“Their taking the first night rather well,” Gloin commented. Bilbo stretched a bit and nodded.

“They are. Much better than I did when I first left the Shire,” he agreed.

“You’ve left before?” Kili asked, frowning.

“Oh, yes, many times.” Bilbo smiled. “Though, I’ve only been as far as the Valley of Imladris.”

Half the Caravan groaned, but a few seemed intrigued―by the fact that Bilbo had ever left the Shire.

“Only as far as the Elves? Why not further?” Bombur questioned.

“Well,” Bilbo coughed a bit, blushing in―shame? “My husband―Frerin―and I, we intended to come to the Lonely Mountain.”

The group perked up immediately at hearing those words.

“But you never came,” Nori pointed out, pipe lowered, “Didn’t even get a messenger sayin’ you would be arrivin’.”

Bilbo sighed, bringing a hand up to rub at his face a bit. Thorin brought a hand up and placed it on Bilbo’s shoulder.

“Well. Things didn’t exactly go as planned on the way.” Bilbo’s face fell, and he shook his head, sighing. The others prodded at him, but he wouldn’t say anything on why he and Frerin had never arrived in Erebor as they had planned.

[][][][][]

The next few days seemed to pass by in a rush of movement and rain. The skies opened up about four days in, and unfortunately, Frerin _and_ Thrain got caught in the downpour. The two boys’ excuse was that there were “big puddles” and they had to jump in them. Fili and Kili hadn’t really helped, and Bilbo had only wished he’d managed to get them dry before either caught a cold.

Unfortunately, that was not the case.

Both were sneezing and sniffling before the sixth day was out, coughing up phlegm and whining because Bilbo wouldn’t let them leave the wagon.

“It’s for your own good, lads,” Oin had told them, and Frerin had clung onto every word the healing Dwarf said.

“If yer good for yer Da I’ll teach ya both how to hold a sword,” Dwalin had winked at the two of them, making the both of them excited. Bilbo heard the words from across the camp apparently.

“No! No, no, no, you will not be teaching them how to use a sword, Dwalin, don’t even think about it!”

Dwalin laughed, ruffling the boys’ hair and leaning in to whisper, “Only when yer Da ain’t around then.”

Frerin and Thrain tittered with excitement, a sudden mess of sneezing, coughing, and giggling. Bilbo came back over and shot Dwalin a disapproving look as he took their temperatures. He frowned immediately and looked to Oin.

“Frerin’s temperature has risen-” Thrain let out a particularly nasty cough, “-and Thrain seems to be rather congested. I don’t think travelling like this will be very good for them.”

Thorin was over in an instant at hearing those words, frowning. “Should we set up camp for a few days?”

“That seems to be the best thing to do.” Bilbo looked up at Thorin and then back at the boys, who were now making faces at each other. Bilbo pulled out a handkerchief and wiped the snot from Thrain’s face, scolding him when his youngest began to blow disgusting bubbles from his nose.

“I’ve a better idea,” Gandalf interjected, and Bilbo looked up at the Wizard.

“A better idea?”

Gandalf merely smiled, his eyes dancing with mirth.

[][][][][]

Bilbo _knew_ he had recognized the area they were in! He smiled when they arrived in Rivendell, the place he had been visiting since he was a child. He looked over at the wagon and spotted Frerin and Thrain practically climbing all over each other to get a better view. Thorin stayed adamantly at his side, glaring at everything around them with what seemed to be a permanent scowl on his face. Bilbo thought it funny.

When they had entered the Last Homely House, they were welcomed by the Elf Lord Elrond himself, who smiled as he saw them, though his eyes were resolutely on Bilbo. Bilbo walked forward and was pulled into something of a hug by the Elf.

“Bilbo Baggins… It has been a while my friend,” Lord Elrond greeted in Sindarin. Bilbo nodded.

“Indeed it has. A lot has changed,” he smiled even more, not even noticing the look of pure betrayal on the rest of the Caravan’s (Sans Gandalf and the boys) faces. Thorin’s blood boiled, seeing Bilbo speak so openly with an Elf of all being, Lord or other.

Thrain and Frerin finally managed to hop out of the wagon and came barrelling over, and only resisted climbing on top of the Elf Lord due to Thrain sneezing and tripping, causing Frerin to trip as well, and the two of them to go rolling.

Bilbo followed after them immediately when they splashed into one of the pools, already fussing over them _since they were already sick and didn’t need to get any sicker!_

“This is a surprise!” Lord Elrond looked astonished. He followed behind Bilbo, getting a good look at the two young boys.

Frerin and Thrain looked up from where Bilbo was drying them with a spare cloth, and then started babbling in excitement.

It took Thorin a while before he realized that what they were speaking was Sindarin.

Oh, this atrocity needed to be amended.

[][][][][]

_“Da! Da! Can you teach us Elfish?” Thrain asked, pointing at the many books in Sindarin that lined Bilbo’s bookshelves._

_“It’s Elvish, dear heart, and the language is called Sindarin,” Bilbo corrected as he finished dressing Frerin. The two had come racing into his study with their clothes in hand so that they could leave for the market early. Bilbo pulled Thrain over and began to dress him as well._

_“And if you want to learn, I’ll certainly teach you,” he smiled._

_“I wanna learn Dwarf!” Frerin stated proudly, hands on his hips. Thrain stuck his tongue out at his brother, earning him a disapproving look from Bilbo._

_“Dwarvish, my love. And the word you want is Khuzdul.” He stepped back and walked to one of the bookshelves._

_“Unfortunately, I’ve not any knowledge except for a few words in your other father’s language, my boy.”_

_Frerin’s face fell, but Thrain was giddy on his toes._

_“What about See-Senda- Elfish?” he asked._

_“That I can teach you,” Bilbo chuckled. Frerin, however, stomped his foot and shook his little blonde head._

_“No! I wanna learn **Dwarf**!” he shouted, before bolting from the room._

_“Frerin!” Bilbo called._

[][][][][]

“ _My_ Thindarin ith perfect,” Frerin was bragging to Lord Elrond and the rest of the Elves that would listen.

“Nu uh, Frerin. _Mine_ is better than _yours_ ,” Thrain stated. He sneezed and one of the Elves immediately went to clean his nose with a handkerchief.

“Why not demonstrate for us?” one of the Elves asked in Sindarin.

Frerin and Thrain jumped at the chance to show off.

Thorin sneered in disgust, resisting the urge to stride over and steal his nephews away. Bilbo was helping the others get situated, leaving his sons in the care of of the Elves. Thorin turned away and went off to find the Hobbit.

“Bilbo!” he called, when he spotted his brother-in-law helping Balin get situated a bit.

“Thorin?” Bilbo looked back and smiled. He walked over, but was surprised when Thorin took his hand and led him away from prying eyes. Once they were tucked away in an alcove, Thorin looked Bilbo in the eye.

“I’ve doubts in my mind that my brother would have wanted his sons learning the language of the Elves,” he states bluntly. Bilbo, taken aback, frowns.

“ _I'm sorry_?”

The look in Bilbo’s eyes made Thorin quickly reassess what he’d said.

“What I mean to say, is that I’m sure he’d have wanted them to learn the language of the Dwarves,” he amended quickly.

Bilbo crossed his arms, an eyebrow raised now. “Yes, but I did not have the knowledge to teach them the language of the Dwarves.”

Thorin cleared his throat. “They can still be taught.” He paused. “As can you.”

Bilbo looked astonished, and for the first time since arriving, a smile broke out over Thorin’s face. Bilbo was pleasantly surprised, having assumed that the Dwarf would have kept a grim look the entire time they were with the Elves.

“As the Prince Consort of the deceased Crown Prince, you are given the title Dwarf-friend, and thus, you are allowed to know our history and our language, so long as you promise to keep our secrets just that,” Thorin explained in full.

Bilbo shook himself out of his stupor and frowned, for a different reason now. “If I ask Balin to teach the boys, I wouldn’t want to ask for him to teach myself as well.”

Thorin held his arm out a bit, gesturing to himself. “I’ll teach you myself.”

[][][][][]

_Frerin sniffled as he wiped at his face, sitting in the middle of his father’s pumpkin patch. He had been alone for close to two hours now, but he didn’t want to go back to his Da yet. He had nothing against learning Elvish with his brother. It was just that-_

_“There you are.”_

_Frerin whipped his head around and spotted Bilbo smiling at him. He resolutely looked down then, not meeting Bilbo’s eyes. Bilbo came over and sat down next to Thrain on one of his larger pumpkins. They stayed quiet for a while, before Bibo spoke._

_“When your father was here,” he began, “he would talk about you and your brother.”_

_Frerin looked up immediately, confusion in his eyes. Bilbo had anticipated it._

_“Not **you** , you, my boy. But he talked how he would teach you and your brother many things. He always said to me, ‘our children will know everything’, and he meant everything.”_

_“Everything, everything?” Frerin frowned. Bilbo nodded._

_“Everything, everything. He wanted the two of you to learn as much as possible, including Khuzdul and Sindarin,” he told his son. He picked Frerin up into his lap. Frerin stayed calm for all of four seconds before he was clinging to his father, tears soaking into Bilbo’s shirt. Frerin sobbed quietly into Bilbo’s shoulder._

_“I know, dear, I know,” Bilbo soothed, rubbing a hand in circles on Frerin’s back._

_Bilbo held tightly to his son, and promised himself that when he managed to get the opportunity, he would find a way to teach his son the language of the Dwarves._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> how does one word? how does one sentence? how does one paragraph? HOW DOES ONE STORY?


	9. Katabî

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "The Elements of Knowledge."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *slithers in* Bluh, this took too long to write. Two weekssssssss
> 
> My motivation for finishing this chapter was getting to watch Detective Conan <3

_“It’s too hard,” Thorin complained in a huff, crossing his arms and looking away from the text. It was completely in Sindarin, the language of the Elves, and Thorin didn’t even understand why he had to learn it._

_“Come now, Thorin, you’re not even trying!” Balin sighed. He had been attempting to teach Thorin the language for the last two hours, and the Heir Apparent Under the Mountain hadn’t even gotten down the basics. He was giving up before he’d really even started!_

_“Teach Frerin or Dis! I don’t **want** to learn the stupid Elf language!”_

_Balin resisted the urge to roll his eyes. He always **knew** it was a bad idea to allow Thorin to spend so much time around his grandfather. Thror was constantly ranting on and on about the “damned tree-shaggers” and it was finally beginning to rub off on Thorin in the worst way. Oh, if Eira found out Thorin was saying such things…_

_“Now, Thorin, as future King of Erebor, you must know the languages of your fellow people of Middle-Earth! Starting with the closest, the Elves,” Balin chastised._

_“I don’t care for them,” Thorin turned his back on his teacher. Balin hummed to himself, trying to think of an incentive that would make Thorin want to learn his lessons._

_A thought came to him in the form of his baby brother._

_“How about a compromise,” he offered. Thorin hadn’t moved, but the twitch of his ear showed Balin he was listening. “For every lesson we get through, I’ll teach you an insult to call Dwalin while the two of you are sparring.”_

_The prospect intrigued Thorin, and he turned around to face Balin again. “So I can taunt him?”_

_Balin nodded. “Indeed. And every match he loses to you because of your new words, I’ll teach you how to tell off an Elf in his own language.”_

_Now Thorin looked delighted; if he knew the words that an Elf was using to insult **him** then he could insult the Elf right back!_

_The look of glee on Thorin’s face made Balin shake his head. He was almost certain Thorin would completely forget these lessons before he’d even reached eighty-three._

[][][][][]

“It’s too hard.”

Balin felt as though he’d heard those words somewhere before, though in a slightly more petulant voice and much more attitude. From Thrain, however, it just sounded as though the boy was defeated. Like he’d tried his hardest in a competition but had given up without ever reaching the finish.

They had left Rivendell two days prior to cross the Misty Mountains. Thorin had said that it was because they had a certain time frame in which they needed to arrive in Erebor, but Gandalf had known that it was because Thorin had not wanted to spend another day with the boys in the Elves’ home speaking their language. As soon as their colds had let up they had packed their things and left the Last Homely House immediately. Lord Elrond had been sad to see them depart, but had watched Thorin lead Bilbo off with something of a knowing twinkle in his eye.

Currently, they had set up camp for the night nearer to one of the mountain peaks. They had taken shelter from a heavy downpour (“Oh no, we are finding shelter because I’ll not have two sick faunts _again_!” Bilbo had stated) in a dry cave before riding for a little longer. They made camp and then Balin had sat Frerin and Thrain down separately to help them start on their language lessons. Earlier in the day he’d helped them with math (paying _extra_ attention to Frerin) and history (having Thrain recite each of the Valar’s names and duties) and they’d skipped reading all together.

They had wanted to do their language lessons separately, however, and Frerin had jumped at the opportunity to learn first. He’d ran off with his newfound knowledge after two hours to try to have conversations with Bombur and Dori.

Thrain was still stuck on conjugation, but Balin had dealt with Thorin in _his_ youth; he had an endless well of patience for dear Thrain who was not so stubborn as his uncle. Balin had a feeling that the root of Thrain’s problem with grasping the concepts was the fact that he was easily distracted or bored, so he would need to come up with a way to keep Thrain’s attention, and he solved that easily by planning to have Ori help him. Balin only wished that teaching Thorin had been as easy.

And speaking Thorin…

“You are a natural,” Thorin smiled at Bilbo, who had easily begun picking up words and their meanings quickly.

Bilbo smiled a little shyly at the compliment. “Thank you. Learning a new language had always fascinated me.”

“I’m glad Khuzdul has caught your attention.” Thorin’s smile changed a bit, but Bilbo couldn’t place how. He brushed it off as himself being silly, and clasped his hands together.

“I’d always been a little interested in it, ever since Frerin first taught me a few words.” Bilbo shrugged his shoulders a bit. “Though, I think my ease of learning really has to do with my wonderful teacher.”

The look on Thorin’s face changed, and if Thorin hadn’t been sitting closer to the fire, Bilbo would have thought the red in his cheeks odd.

“Not likely, lad. Thorin’s got the teachin’ ability of a cod,” Dwalin pitched in with a laugh, and Thorin’s look of surprise was replaced with a scowl as he glared over at Dwalin. Dwalin merely laughed more at the look on Thorin’s face, enjoying his leader’s discomfort.

Bilbo only smiled, recognizing that Dwalin was simply teasing poor Thorin.

“Perhaps those are enough lessons for one night,” Thorin gruffed, and Bilbo blinked. One moment Thorin was sitting next to him, and in another he was stalking away.

Bofur and Nori filled up the space near him instead now, both grinning as they watched their stoic King head off.

“Really now, Dwalin, no need to make fun of him,” Bofur snickered a bit.

“Honestly, brute isn’t even considerate of his Majesty’s feelins!” Nori added in with mock disapproval. Both managed to stay composed for all of four seconds before they burst into laughter, startling Bilbo. Confused as to what it was they could possibly be talking about, he tried to get clued in on the apparent joke.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand,” he frowned.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Nori waved it off with his hand.

“Aye, we’re just havin’ a little fun is all,” Bofur agreed. He looked at Bilbo. “Say, think you could teach us some of your Hobbit ways?”

Bilbo smiled a bit. “Of course. What do you want to know?”

Bofur and Nori exchanged delighted grins.

[][][][][]

Thorin rubbed a hand down his face as he listened to Bofur and Nori tease and make fun of their Hobbit’s drinking songs. None of them had done any drinking so far (not while the boys were still awake) but Bofur and Nori had been determined to be prepared for if they did do some type of drinking that night. Bilbo had only indulged them because they wouldn’t stop bugging him until he’d told them something.

Currently, Bilbo was teaching them one about strong cider and a farmer’s crop of watermelons, which, in Thorin’s opinion, made absolutely no sense whatsoever. But, he was glad Bilbo was fitting in so well with the others. Everyone in their caravan essentially represented each part of Dwarven society, and if Bilbo and the boys got along well with Bofur, a miner, Nori, a thief, and Gloin, a seasoned warrior, then it practically screamed that the rest of the kingdom would love them as well.

“Da! How come you won’t teach _us_ those songs?”

It seemed that Balin had finished with Thrain’s language lesson then. Thorin watched from his position leaning against a tree while Thrain climbed onto Bilbo’s shoulders.

“Well, my boy, those songs are not meant for your ears,” Bilbo told him as an explanation.

“How come?”

Bilbo smiled. “Because children haven’t any need for those types of songs.”

“Oh. That makes sense.” Thrain wrinkled his nose a bit.

“Why don’t I teach you some other songs, eh?” Bofur offered.

Thrain looked delighted, and immediately climbed down from Bilbo’s shoulders to make himself comfortable in Bofur’s lap. Bilbo smiled while Bofur pulled out his flute.

[][][][][]

Bilbo sighed as he sat up. For some reason, he simply couldn’t sleep. He stood up and walked over to the wagon. Glancing within, he smiled when he saw Frerin wrapped around Thrain’s middle and Thrain sprawled. He pulled their blanket over them when a gust of wind blew suddenly, and then went toward the still crackling fire. Fili and Kili sat on watch.

“Fili. Kili,” he greeted, shooting them a smile.

“Uncle,” they said in unison.

“Can’t sleep?” Fili asked. Bilbo shook his head.

“Not at all. Too much on my mind I suppose,” he murmured.

“Ruby for your thoughts?” Kili smiled. Bilbo tilted his head, curious.

“That’s the first I’ve heard that saying said like that,” he chuckled.

“Like what?”

“‘Ruby for your thoughts’. In the Shire, it’s always been ‘daisy’,” Bilbo elaborated, and Fili and Kili looked confused now.

“Why would you give someone a flower?” Fili asked. “They aren’t very valuable.”

Bilbo laughed, and simply shook his head. “Never mind. It’s Hobbit customs.”

“Hobbits are strange creatures,” Kili added.

“Not as strange as Elves,” Fili grimaced. Kili agreed immediately. Bilbo’s smile turned fond.

“Don’t really like Elves, eh?” he questioned, though he didn’t really need to.

“Of course not! Foul weed-eaters, they are!”

Bilbo laughed when they began ranting about how evil the Elves were, only managing to not wake up the others when he covered his mouth. Maybe he shouldn’t have gotten the two of them started like that.

[][][][][]

“Has anyone seen Frerin and Thrain?” Bilbo frowned, looking around.

They had crossed the Misty Mountains with no trouble, and it had only taken them two days to reach the halls of Gandalf’s old ‘friend’, a large, burly fellow that Gandalf had called a Skinchanger. Beorn was his name, and he hadn’t be so hospitable until he’d seen Frerin and Thrain.

“Children should not have to sleep in the wilds,” Beorn had stated while Frerin ran circles around him in intrigue. Thrain had stayed as far away as possible, choosing to hide behind the furthest Dwarf from Beorn (Bifur). “You may rest and restock here.”

Bilbo had been grateful, and once the Skinchanger had disappeared, leaving the members of the Caravan to their own devices, everyone had gotten settled within the halls. They’d figured they’d rest for the night and spend the next day preparing to get back on the road again and planning their route. The night had passed in merriment, the boys especially excited when their lessons were cancelled during their stay.

The sun dawned over the horizon and Bilbo had woken without the weight of his children at either side, and though he knew they would not go far without a Dwarf chasing after them, he needed to give them a bath to get rid of the muck and grime they had accumulated in the last two days.

“They went with Kili and Thorin I believe,” Bombur hummed, one of the only Dwarves still inside aside from Oin and Dori.

“Aye, they were going to show the lads hunting techniques,” Oin nodded. “Fine thing to teach ‘em, show ‘em how to find food in the wild!”

Bilbo rose an eyebrow at that, but shook his head. “They went out _hunting_? As in, possibly getting even dirtier than they already were?”

He didn’t even give the three Dwarves the opportunity to respond before he was heading out the door and off in search of his children, nephew, and brother-in-law.

The first he found was Gloin, who was sitting and strategizing (for what, Bilbo was unsure) with Dwalin. They were talking about sword techniques and how troops should be placed around Erebor when Bilbo came upon them.

“Looking for the lads?” Gloin grinned. Bilbo nodded.

“They both need a bath terribly. Do you know which way they went?” he explained.

“Through there,” Dwalin jerked a thumb in the direction of a tall rock, and Bilbo spotted Nori and Ori not far from it, staring into the wood. Bilbo thanked the two of them and quickly hurried over.

“Oh, Bilbo!” Ori smiled in greeting when he spotted the Hobbit.

“Hello Ori, Nori. Where are Thorin and the boys?” Bilbo looked around. The two brothers glanced back through the trees.

“They went through there. They marked a path, but be careful of sharp things,” Nori nodded toward the trees.

“Thank you,” Bilbo hurried through, looking around for his boys.

He had to have walked for maybe ten minutes before he heard the sounds of twigs snapping and leaves crunching. He paused and looked toward where he’d thought he’d heard the noise. When there was only silence, he started walking again. Another minute passed and the sounds started up again, only this time, he heard a bit of whispering. Deciding not to stop, he listened hard to figure out just what the voices were saying.

“Silence is key in stalking your prey…” That was most certainly Kili’s voice.

“But Da ithn’t prey?” That was Frerin.

“Duh, Frerin-” Thrain.

“Thhh! He’ll hear you!” Frerin again.

“You shhh!” Thrain.

“Boys,” and that was Thorin.

By the time the group had quieted once more, Bilbo was smiling at their antics. Though he hadn’t done it himself, Bilbo was almost positive that this was not how hunting was meant to go. He walked for a while longer, still listening, until he managed to figure out just where the four of them were.

“Alright, now you have to pounce,” Kili was telling the boys.

“Now?” Frerin asked.

“Now!” Thrain shouted as he jumped out of the bushes and charged at Bilbo.

Bilbo grinned as he picked Thrain up before he’d even properly reached him, laughing when his son struggled a bit.

“No fair, Da!” he whined.

“Come out, Frerin, Kili, Thorin,” Bilbo called to the others. Frerin stepped out of the bushes, followed by Kili and Thorin, one looking a little miffed at having been figured out and the other amused.

“How did you find uth?” Frerin wanted to know as Bilbo hefted him into his arms as well.

“Well, silence is key, but near impossible when you’re teaching children,” he directed his look towards Kili, who crossed his arms.

“Everything was going fine,” he grumbled.

“Oh yes, I’m sure,” Bilbo rolled his eyes. He looked Frerin and Thrain over and then sighed. “You two are absolutely _covered_ in dirt. It’s a good thing it’s time for a bath, hm?”

Both boys whined at that.

“But Da!”

“No buts. Here, Uncle Thorin and cousin Kili will help, since they helped the two of you get this dirty in the first place,” Bilbo shot the two of them looks.

“Of course, Uncle Bilbo!” Kili smiled. He grabbed both Frerin and Thrain from him, heading back towards Beorn’s home. Leaving Bilbo with Thorin.

They started back towards the others at a slower pace.

“Bilbo,” Thorin started, “I would have us have words if it is alright with you.”

“What’s bothering you?” Bilbo inquired.

“We are, at most, a week’s ride from Erebor. Though I usually would not have you or Frerin and Thrain worry about such things, I think it’s time we speak on your duties to the Kingdom,” Thorin explained.

Bilbo looked a little startled to hear the words, but he quickly composed himself. “Yes? What duties?”

Thorin cleared his throat, puffing his chest up a bit as he began to speak, “As Prince Consort of the deceased Prince of Erebor, Frerin I, it is your duty to take over all responsibilities Frerin himself had before he passed.”

“Responsibilities such as?”

“Balin can fill in those details. I’d not known all of Frerin’s duties myself, but Balin will. There are other, more pressing matters, though.”

Bilbo’s brow furrowed, confused as to what could be more pressing than knowing his Prince Consort-ly duties.

“Though your interactions with us have proven that you are capable of mingling with the Dwarves of each part of Ereborean society, it does not mean that all will accept you. Once we arrive in Erebor, I think it would be best if you immediately began to interact with the people,” Thorin explained. Bilbo’s confused expression smoothed out into understanding.

“I see. And the boys? Should they as well?” he asked.

“Yes. Though it would be better if they connected with children their own age instead of adults. Children are the future of Erebor, and as two of the Crown Princes, it will be good for them to become familiar with those who will be running the kingdom in the future.”

Bilbo agreed with that. It made sense for Frerin and Thrain to forge strong connections with other children, especially since their future would be the future of Erebor.

They were silent for a while, and Bilbo spotted the huge rock he had come past up ahead. They reached it in little to no time at all, and they were just passing it when Thorin spoke up again.

“Bilbo,” he called, and Bilbo stopped. The Hobbit turned around to look up at him, look inquisitive.

“Yes? Is something wrong?”

Thorin could only stare at him, before he simply shook his head. Bilbo smiled, confused, but figured he ought not pressure his brother-in-law.

“I’ll go check on Kili and the boys. We’ll be by the stream not far from here,” he told him. The invitation was clear, and Bilbo walked off.

Thorin’s hand went to his belt, where a pouch hung at his side. He gripped it tight in his hand, his mind remembering, once again, that Bilbo had been his brother’s husband.

Thorin didn’t want to take Bilbo from him, even if Frerin was already gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made a tumblr by the way. Under the same name. It's mainly to follow one blog I really like, but I figured I should let you guys know as well ^-^ There is where I'll be doing most of my talking about things Hobbit and non-Hobbit related.
> 
> http://tonypie17.tumblr.com


	10. Nae saian luume'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cormamin lindua ele lle"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sosososososososo SO sorry this took so long. It honestly was not supposed to take as long as it did. I had written half of it and then left it for like a month and then came back to it again last week to finish it. It's longer than usual to try to make up for my absence ^^; I am soooo sorry though.

“Are we there yet?”

“No, darling.”

“How about now?”

“No, dear.”

“Uncle, are we there yet?”

Thorin smiled and looked over into the wagon, where Frerin and Thrain were rolling about and whining. The two hadn’t been allowed out since that morning, when they had set out to the Greenwood. It was nearing later in the evening, the sun at the furthest point in the sky that wasn’t beyond the horizon. Thorin had decided that they would push through to the Greenwood, where an Elven party would be waiting to receive them as per Bilbo and the Boys’ request.

The forest was on the horizon, and Thorin’s smile dropped a bit as he spotted tall figures waiting outside of the wood for them.

“Yes, boys. We’re finally here. See there?” Gandalf pointed in the direction they were heading in. Frerin and Thrain scrambled to see, nearly hitting each other in the face to try to get a good look. Bilbo laughed when they stared in awe, before beginning to wave and shout in Sindarin. The Dwarves mood seemed to dampen immediately, just as it had whenever Frerin and Thrain spoke such fluid Sindarin and not Khuzdul.

The Elves ahead of them spotted them and waved back, making Frerin and Thrain even more ecstatic.

“Look Da! The toughest Elves!” Thrain shouted.

“Are we gonna thee the Elf King like grandma did?” Frerin bounced in his seat.

“Should we find ourselves lucky enough, we will,” Bilbo chuckled.

The two children gave shouts of glee as the Caravan finally pulled to a stop in front of the Elves. Bilbo recognized only one of them, a face he hadn’t seen since he was young.

“Son of Belladonna! And here I thought I’d never see you again,” the Elf Prince Legolas stepped forward, greeting Bilbo. Bilbo nodded his head.

“I never thought I’d ever be travelling again,” he sighed. He looked over at the wagon, where Frerin and Thrain were just barely peeping their little heads up to look at the Elf that had walked closest to them. They had never seen Elves armed with weapons before (okay so they had only just met real Elves a six days ago, but they hadn’t been armed!) and it was a little scary seeing the Greenwood Elves with bows and arrows and swords.

Legolas’ line of sight followed Bilbo’s and he was surprised to see two children hiding from him. He hadn’t seen such little ones since Bilbo had been a young one himself, but that had seemed like so long ago and he had never seen Bilbo _that_ small. He took a step towards the wagon, only to have three of the Dwarves step between them on their ponies. He rose an inquisitive eyebrow as the three glared at him.

“And just _what_ do you think you’re doing?” Gloin demanded.

“Greeting the children of Bilbo Baggins,” Legolas stated simply, crossing his arms.

Frerin and Thrain looked up in awe.

“You know who we are?” Frerin squeaked.

Legolas looked over at the two children, but didn’t reply immediately. Bilbo rolled his eyes and then cleared his throat, catching the attention of Nori, who was behind Dwalin, who was behind Gloin. Nori seemed reluctant to move; if they left their spots now the blasted Elf would be able to get close to and corrupt the two children.

Bilbo cleared his throat once more, catching the attention of the other two Dwarves, and all three moved away grudgingly. They kept a close eye on Legolas, however, when he finally stepped up to the wagon and was able to look in at the two boys. Frerin and Thrain stared at him with wide, slightly fearful eyes, though the curiosity in them was obvious.

“Well, the two of you look remarkably like your father,” Legolas explained at last, and an easy smile broke out on his face. His smile made Thrain smile, even though Frerin still partially hid behind his brother.

“Are you like an Elf knight and stuff?” Thrain asked, and Legolas rose an eyebrow.

“I am no knight, small one. Though I do have ties to King.” Legolas glanced at Bilbo.

“He is the Elf King’s son,” Bilbo elaborated. Both Thrain and Frerin stared up at Legolas with wide eyed amazement now, just before Thrain attempted to climb from the wagon to get a more close up and hands on look at Legolas.

“Thrain,” Thorin called, a bit of a warning to his voice. Thrain glanced back at him and then slid back down into the wagon, looking sufficiently scolded. Bilbo chuckled a bit.

“When we’ve settled in the Halls of the Greenwood you’ll be able to ask more questions, alright?” he offered.

“Okay…” Thrain mumbled.

Legolas smiled at the little one and then turned to the other Elves. He shouted something in Sindarin that the Dwarves didn’t understand, but the Bilbo and the boys could interpret perfectly. The Caravan started to move once more, and soon the forest encompassed them.

[][][][][]

_Bilbo looked around at all the Elves, fascinated by the way they moved. They were graceful and quiet, willowy like the trees surrounding them. He wished he was nearly as light on his feet; his mother had mastered the Elven technique and he was in the process of learning himself, but it always seemed that he was too loud._

_He was practicing his movements through the shadows when he ran into a person. More specifically, an Elf, who didn’t look to be from Rivendell. His hair betrayed an upbringer from elsewhere, but Bilbo could be wrong (after all, Lady Galadriel was from Rivendell, and she had hair like this Elf’s)._

_“What is this? A child?” the Elf looked surprised. Bilbo looked around, and then up at the Elf._

_“Who are you?” he asked, curious._

_“Legolas. Elf Prince of the Greenwood. And you are, little one?” the Elf kneeled down to look Bilbo in the eye. Bilbo remembered his manners and tried to make himself seem taller than he was, nodding his head._

_“Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”_

_Legolas stared at him for a moment before a smile broke out on his face._

_“You must be Belladonna’s child; you seem to be very kind, just as your mother is,” he stated. He held a hand out to Bilbo. “Why don’t we go and see if we can’t find your mother?”_

_Bilbo’s father had always told him that he should never go off with strangers. However, Legolas had told him his name, and he was an Elf, so that technically didn’t make him a stranger. Bilbo thought about this as he took Legolas’ hand, and was extremely surprised when he was whisked into Legolas’ arms._

_“Come, Bilbo, let us find the others and feast tonight.”_

_Bilbo smiled and nodded._

[][][][][]

Kili grit his teeth, nudging Fili with his arm. Fili looked up from where he was helping to unload their things from the ponies. He nearly ripped the pack he was holding in half when he spotted the Elf Prince holding Thrain in his arms. Bilbo was giving Frerin some of the salve Oin had mashed up for him for his gums, which had begun to hurt because his teeth were finally coming in once more.

Legolas said something in Sindarin. Thrain giggled. Fili and Kili seethed.

The fact that Frerin avoided the Greenwood Elves was the only thing keeping them sane. They still had one Dwarfling on their side at least.

“Fili? Kili?”

And speaking of said Dwarfling.

“What’s the matter, little one?” Kili kneeled down to look Frerin in the eye.

Frerin looked down at his feet for a moment, wiggling his toes, and then looked up at Kili again.

“Can I help?” he asked, pointing to the pony they were unpacking.

“What’s wrong? Aren’t you gonna go with your brother?” Fili asked.

Frerin shook his head immediately, glancing back at Thrain and Legolas and then looking at Fili and Kili once more. He looked rather upset, which worried the two Dwarves.

“Nu uh. I wanna help _you_ ,” he repeated, crossing his little arms.

“Alright, here, you can help us carry the packs,” Kili smiled. He passed one of the smaller packs to Frerin, who eagerly took hold and followed behind the Dwarves.

[][][][][]

Balin noticed something very wrong when he saw the seating at dinner time. Frerin stayed adamantly in Thorin’s lap amongst the Dwarves, which was as far away from the Elves as he could get. Thrain sat with the Elves, with Bilbo flitting between both groups to ensure that his two children were comfortable.

Though he wasn’t the most fond of Elves, Balin decided he needed to get to the bottom of things. He walked over to the Elven group, where Bilbo was currently with Thrain, and sat at one of the open seats. Surprisingly, the group accepted him with little fuss.

“What brings you to us, Master Dwarf?” one of the female Elves asked.

“Simple curiosity, milady. It’s not often that the Fair King houses us Dwarves in his halls,” Balin explained, smiling politely.

“It is a special occasion. The son of Belladonna, an old friend, along with the sons of her son, are welcome along with the King of Erebor,” Legolas explained.

“It’s ‘cause the Elf King wants to forge better friendships,” Thrain said knowledgeably. He looked up at Legolas. “Right?”

“That is very right, poikaer.” Legolas smiled. Bilbo shook his head goodnaturedly.

“It would seem that Thrain has been picking up a few words and phrases,” he chuckled. Thrain blushed a slight pink, wiggling in his seat.

“Mister Legolas said that his Da wanted to fix the relationships with Erebor,” he murmured quietly.

“It’s been several decades since our territories have done outright business together,” Legolas explained, suddenly serious. “Father thinks it only wise that we rekindle what was lost.”

Balin nodded, finding that to be an excellent explanation. And really, he did agree. Due to Erebor and the Greenwood having not dealt with each other in so long, Erebor was forced to reroute trade around the Greenwood forests. This caused things to become _extremely_ dangerous, as packs of Orcs attacked four out of ten trade caravans sent out. If they could do negotiations with the Greenwood once more, they could have the route reworked to go through the Greenwood and eliminate the threat. It would also make trading days faster.

“I’ll draw up a contract. Thorin and the King will discuss before we set out,” Balin decided. Legolas’ smile returned to his face.

“Excellent. I’ll arrange to have my father available before the evening is finished,” he replied. The Elves at the table cheered happily, much livelier than the Dwarves.

They continued speaking on much smaller matters before Bilbo deemed it time for Frerin and Thrain to go to bed. Thrain was prepared to protest, but before the lad could Legolas stepped up.

“If I may, Bilbo, I’ll put them to bed,” he offered.

“Thank you, Legolas, that’s very kind of you.” Bilbo looked over to where Frerin was. “Frerin! Time for bed!”

Frerin looked up, noticing Legolas, and then tried to hide in Thorin’s coat. Bilbo raised an eyebrow, surprised by the way his son was acting. He stood and walked over himself, kneeling beside Thorin to look Frerin in the eye.

“Is something the matter?” he asked.

Frerin poked his head out of Thorin’s coat, looking guilty of something. “Can I thay up with Uncle Thorin a little longer?”

Bilbo frowned softly, glancing up at Thorin. Though he had no doubt that Thorin would certainly put Frerin to bed the moment his eyelids began to droop, he preferred to lie them down together.

“Mister Legolas will tell you a bedtime story,” Bilbo said, trying to coax Frerin into coming along willingly.

The fauntling stayed firmly where he was. Bilbo sighed and figured he needed to try something else altogether. He needed to get to the root of this problem, find out why it was that Frerin was refusing to go anywhere near the Elves, Legolas especially. He wasn’t always the most observant fellow, but when it came to his children, he noticed many things.

“If you stay here Thrain will get lonely. You don’t want him to get lonely do you?” Bilbo tried. Frerin looked contemplative, as if he were weighing his options in his mind.

“But he hath Mither Legolath,” he finally mumbled out, so quiet Bilbo almost didn’t catch it. Bilbo’s brow immediately shot up at the declaration, and he finally saw where the root of everything lied. Though, he had no idea what had made Frerin jump to _that_ conclusion. He didn’t remember hearing either of them say anything to each other that could have led to Frerin thinking that.

Deciding that he needed to talk to Thrain as well, Bilbo reached over and pulled Frerin into his arms. Frerin seemed reluctant to let go of Thorin, but did so on his father’s prompting. Just as he was beginning to walk away, Thorin called his name.

“Bilbo.”

The Hobbit glanced back, an inquisitive look on his face.

“If you find yourself time, I’d like to speak with you soon.” Thorin coughed slightly. Bilbo smiled and nodded, quickly walking over to where Legolas was. The two headed off to put the boys to bed, leaving Thorin to stare after them, a tight feeling in his chest.

[][][][][]

Legolas led the way to their rooms, listening to Thrain talk about how well his Sindarin was with a patient ear. Bilbo only half-listened, choosing instead to observe Frerin out of the corner of his eye. Frerin himself was watching Legolas and Thrain, and Bilbo noticed how Thrain resolutely refused to look at Frerin.

Bilbo thought back to when something could have happened between his two children. There was no point in time he could really think of where he wasn’t in the presence of one or both of his children. No point in time except… Except when they were dismounting.

The boys had insisted that they could leave the wagon on their own, which was why Bilbo had let one of the Elves guide his pony along while Oin stayed with the lads. Thorin had helped him dismount. And when he’d gone back to make sure his boys were alright, Thrain had already gone to be swept up by Legolas and Frerin had simply asked if it was time for his medicine yet. Neither had given any indication that something had happened between them.

But something _had_ happened. And Bilbo was determined to get to the bottom of things to find out _what_.

[][][][][]

_Frerin peeked beneath the bedding of his room and found one small Dwarfling hiding, just as the little one’s mother said he would be. He reached beneath the bed and pulled Kili from beneath it, smiling fondly when the tiny Dwarfling squeaked and yelped. Kili was barely eleven years of age, but still smaller than most other Dwarflings his age. He was most certainly smaller than his older brother, Fili, who was only sixteen years himself._

_Frerin sat down on his bed with Kili in his arms, still smiling as Kili looked up at him with a bit of a pout._

_“What are you doing here, masmith?” he asked._

_“Fee was- wasn’t gonna let me play!” Kili shouted, and Frerin had to remember that it wasn’t on purpose, even if the little Dwarrow was going to destroy his eardrums. Kili had a small voice. He always wanted to make sure he was heard._

_“I’m sure your brother just wants to make sure you’re safe. He does do some very dangerous things at times,” Frerin chuckled. Kili shook his little head frantically, and Frerin had to suppress the feeling of adoration that rose in his chest from watching his smallest sister-son shake the tiny braids he’d practically begged Thorin to braid into his hair._

_“Him say- he say- he told me he don’t want to play with me no more.” Kili curled up in Frerin’s lap, eyes staring down at a spot on the floor and trying to hold back tears that threatened to spill. Frerin frowned._

_“It’s ‘cause I’m a baby…”_

_Now Frerin knew he would have to have words with his other sister-son._

_“Kili,” Frerin began, “Your brother doesn’t really mean that. Alright? He’s just being a… uhh…”_

_Kili looked up at Frerin, “Derhar?” he supplied. Frerin laughed._

_“That’s exactly what he’s being right now. But don’t let your mother hear you say that, she won’t like you calling your brother a troll,” he patted Kili on the back. “Sometimes big brothers act like trolls. They don’t always do it on purpose.”_

_Kili let the information sink in a bit, and then looked up at Frerin again. “Did Uncle Thorin act like a troll sometimes?”_

_Frerin snorted. “Oh, did he. He acted like the biggest troll of them all.” The older Dwarrow shook his head._

_“But, I acted like a troll towards your mother sometimes, and when I saw how much it would hurt her feelings, I stopped doing it so often.”_

_Kili didn’t think it possible for someone to hurt his mother’s feelings, no way. He thought she was the strongest Dwarrowdam in the entirety of Middle-Earth. But he supposed that she wasn’t always that way, and that there was a time when even her feelings could be hurt by someone._

_“Come, irakdashat, let’s go see if we can’t bug your other Uncle or your Grandfather.”_

_Kili brightened up at the idea, mischief shining in his eyes as he jumped down from Frerin’s lap and pulled him along._

[][][][][]

“Legolas, might I have just a moment alone with the boys before you give them a story?” Bilbo asked once they’d reached the bedroom the three Hobbits would be staying in.

Legolas nodded, handing Thrain off to Bilbo and standing outside the door politely while Bilbo went in. He put both faunts down, standing them on their own feet and moving about to get them dressed for bed. He had only grabbed their sleeping clothes when he turned around and saw them standing with their backs toward each other, arms crossed in front of their little chests.

So he was right in his assumption then.

“Boys, is there something you want to tell me?” he asked, sitting down in a chair. The two children said nothing at first, before Thrain looked at Bilbo.

“ _He_ said he didn’t wanna talk to the nice Elves but I did and he called me names!” He exclaimed, and immediately Frerin started shouting.

“Nu uh! You thaid you didn’t wanna be my brother becauthe mither Legolath wath nither!” Frerin countered.

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

“ _Boys_ ,” Bilbo scolded, and the two children, who had grown a bit red in the face from their shouting stopped to look at their father. He beckoned both of them over and breathed a heavy sigh.

“Did you call your brother names, Frerin?” he asked softly.

“Da-” Bilbo gave Frerin a stern look and the fauntling dropped his head, nodding.

“And did you say you didn’t want to be his brother anymore, Frerin?” Bilbo looked to his other son, who had crossed his arms and was looking at anywhere but Bilbo’s face.

“…yes…” he mumbled.

“Well, it seems to me like the two of you owe each other an apology,” Bilbo stated. He looked at the two of them.

They looked at each other and mumbled out apologies, looking guilty. Bilbo shifted his gaze back to Frerin.

“And _you_ , Frerin, owe Mister Legolas an apology as well.” Frerin turned pink to the tips of his ears, embarrassed for being so foul to Mister Legolas when nothing had been his fault.

“The two of you have to remember that you are brothers. And you should always be kind to each other. Eru knows how much I would’ve given to have a brother,” Bilbo told them. They looked up at him curiously.

“But you do have a brother, Da,” Thrain said like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“You have Uncle Thorin!” Frerin added.

“And Mister Oin and Mister Gloin and Mister Dwalin and Mister Balin-”

“No, Mither Balin ith like a grandda.”

“Then Mister Oin is too.”

“But Mither Bofur and Mither Bombur and Mither Bifur and Mither Nori can be Da’th brotherth too.”

Bilbo smiled at the way they had so easily forgiven each other. If all people could be as forgiving as children the world would be so much better. He reminded them that it was still time for bed and quickly got them dressed since they had made Legolas wait for quite a long time. The two faunts climbed into the bed they would be sharing and waited while Bilbo opened the door to allow Legolas in.

“I’ll leave you to it then,” Bilbo smiled, throwing a glance over his shoulder at the two boys. Legolas nodded, smiling.

“I’ll tell them the one _you_ used to enjoy,” he said.

“Used to?” Bilbo laughed. “I still enjoy it!”

Legolas chuckled and walked further into the room, pulling up the chair Bilbo had once been sitting in and smiling at Frerin and Thrain. Bilbo paused by the door, long enough to hear Frerin mumble a tiny apology to Legolas about being “really really _really_ rude” before Legolas forgave him. He lingered only long enough to hear the beginning of the story before making his way down the hall to find Thorin.

_“Long ago, during a time when Elf, Man, and Dwarf could stand together as allies, a young Prince wandered far from home…”_

[][][][][]

Bilbo found Thorin alone, sitting on a bench in a deep alcove and smoking a pipe. He thanked Eru that he had run into Dwalin on his way to find the Dwarven King, for he wouldn’t have been able to find Thorin if not for the direction the Warrior had pointed him in. He took a seat next to Thorin, who offered him his pipe. Bilbo smiled and took a decent puff from it.

“Surprisingly,” Thorin started suddenly, “The meeting with Thranduil went well. There was not a single threat uttered between either of us.”

Bilbo smiled.

“I’m glad things went well. You look much better when you are at ease,” he commented. Thorin said nothing in reply to this, choosing instead to look at Bilbo out of the corner of his eye.

They were silent for a moment.

“When we reach Erebor, I would like to hold a celebration. In yours and the boys’ names,” Thorin said. Bilbo looked a little startled at this idea.

“Oh, really, there’s no need for a celebration!” he said.

“There is. It is a joyous occasion for my people to know that all traces of Frerin are not lost. We now have Frerin II and Thrain III.” Thorin paused. “And you.”

Bilbo’s brow furrowed, and Thorin wondered if it was alright for the Hobbit to go through some many expressions at once. “The boys I understand. But me as well? I’m not exactly a Dwarf, Thorin.”

“You are the Crown Prince’s Prince Consort. Making you just as important. And since I’m sure Frerin told you much about our culture and history, that makes you Dwarf-friend. Which is just as good as being a Dwarf in its own right,” Thorin explained. He hesitantly brought a hand up to place on Bilbo’s shoulder. “Please allow us to show our gratitude.”

Bilbo looked into Thorin’s eyes, seeing- _something_ in them that compelled him to sigh an appeasing sigh and nod his head. He smiled and brought his hand up to place over Thorin’s own, briefly.

“Alright. I suppose that _is_ fine,” he agreed.

Thorin allowed a small smile to cross over his face, and he looked out again. Bilbo followed suit, thinking in his mind that Thorin had chosen a quite beautiful place for them to sit and talk.

It was almost like a small balcony, the alcove. It looked out high over the kingdom in the Greenwood, and when Bilbo looked up, he could see stars. There were Elves moving about and looking quite merry, and if Bilbo squinted a bit he could spot a few from the company dancing merrily with a group of Elves. It was definitely a good sign that the future relations between the Elves of the Greenwood and the Dwarves of Erebor was starting to look good.

[][][][][]

Bilbo fell asleep that night leaning against Thorin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to have a root canal on my tooth v.v It'll be happening on Wednesday, the 28th, and then I'm due for a check up on February 17th, which will be two days after Katsucon. If any of you reading will be at the Gaylord in the National Harbor for Katsucon on February 13-15, let me know and look for me!
> 
>  
> 
> I have a headcanon that Thranduil offered Thorin pies as part of a peace offering. (If anyone gets that reference)
> 
>  **EDIT:** _I do not take requests at this time. It's hard enough to focus on one fic at a time with my already short attention span (as you all have seen) and I've already got plenty of unfinished ones on my Drive, as well as fics already lined up for after this one. Please do not ask if I do requests._


	11. A Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Cannot be easily won"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so I literally sat down and decided I'll get at the very least one chapter out every month.
> 
> See, at first my thought process goes, "Oh no writer's block I'll never write again" but then I'll read some Bagginshield fics and my mind will go "WRITE DAMN YOU THIS IS GOOD FUEL"

When Bilbo left his room after a restful night’s sleep (unsure of how he got there in the first place but positive that it had something to do with Thorin, since all he remembered from the night before was falling asleep next to Thorin) it was mainly to go searching for Frerin and Thrain, who had apparently risen with the sun. He wished they hadn’t gone running off; he was quite sure that it was easy to get lost in the Greenwood Kingdom.

Bilbo had rounded a corner when he ran into someone, tumbling backwards onto his backside from the collision. Surprised, he looked up and into the face of Fili, who looked surprised to see him.

“Uncle! I was just coming to see if you were awake!” he smiled, helping Bilbo up.

“Good morning, Fili,” Bilbo managed to smile. He looked around the halls.

“Looking for Frerin and Thrain?” Fili supplied, an blonde eyebrow raised. Oh, he did remind Bilbo of Frerin sometimes.

“Have you seen them? I always find myself worried when I’ve no clue where they’ve gone,” Bilbo sighed.

“No worries, Uncle, Dwalin and Gloin have taken them for the day.”

That was supposed to make him less worried? It wasn’t working.

“Whatever reason for?” he asked.

“The Elves heard Dwalin speaking about teaching them a few useful skills, and offered their sparring grounds for a bit,” Fili elaborated. The look on Bilbo’s face told Fili that he probably shouldn’t have said that. Quickly, he tried to mend things.

“Don’t worry! Dori went with them as well, to ensure things didn’t get dangerous!” he added immediately.

Bilbo gave him a calculating look. Well, if there was one thing he had learned, it was that Dori was most certainly the strongest of the company. If he could do nothing else, he could most certainly stop Dwalin and Gloin if the two tried to teach Frerin and Thrain anything Bilbo wouldn’t approve of them being taught at their young age. Dori could discern those things much easier than Dwalin or Gloin (or the boys themselves) ever could.

Deciding that he was alright with this development, Bilbo looked up at Fili once more.

“We should move along then,” he decided. Fili stared at him, confused for a moment.

“To where, Uncle?” he asked. Now it was Bilbo’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“ _Breakfast_ , Fili.”

“Oh!”

[][][][][]

_Belladonna Baggins was intimidated by no Man, Elf, or Dwarf. She may have been a Hobbit, but that did not mean she would allow creatures larger than herself try to bully her into submission. She had a profound **hate** for bullies; she’d turned enough young fauntlings over her knee for bullying her own son._

_Because she would not be so easily picked on, she didn’t realize how she came off to an **Elf King**. She seemed disrespectful and rude, to refuse to do more than simply tilt her head forward in acknowledgment of his presence and then completely ignore him. Belladonna did not take kindly to those who thought themselves high and mighty._

_Which was probably what drew Thranduil to find out more about her. He was used to this sort of obstinate behaviour from Dwarves alone, never any other race of being. And his cousin had spoken so highly of the Hobbit woman, it surprised him to see her acting as if she were a Dwarf._

_(He later attributed it to the height of Hobbits and Dwarves, to which Belladonna would laugh and agree that maybe that was it, or maybe she was simply a special case.)_

_Coaxing her into speaking with him had been hard, but once Thranduil had a right proper conversation with her, Belladonna won his affections easily. She was simply a charming Hobbit; witty and sharp-tongued and willing to challenge him, something even his cousin rarely did anymore. It was refreshing to speak to someone physically smaller than him that wasn’t a stubborn Dwarf._

_He mourned her death just as his cousin did, and vowed that should her son ever cross through his halls he would welcome him with open arms._

[][][][][]

Bilbo Baggins was very much different from his mother, Thranduil noted. Where Belladonna could be rude and crass when she wanted to, Bilbo was constantly polite and proper. Where Belladonna’s sharp wit was clear in her words, Bilbo’s seemed to be underlying. Where Belladonna had been a bit hot headed, Bilbo kept his patience.

The stark contrast was shocking to Thranduil, but he did well in remembering that this was, after all, Belladonna’s _son_ and not Belladonna herself.

“You’ve your mother’s appearance,” Thranduil remarked at breakfast, where he’d decided to join the King Under the Mountain with his nephews and Bilbo.

Somehow, the Dwarves had managed to stop scowling when they looked at the Elves; they instead gave them calculating looks, as if trying to figure out what the tree-lovers were thinking. Bilbo preferred it to the glares and constant whispering of less than pleasant insults. The Caravan didn’t completely trust Thranduil and his Elves just yet (that would take time, a _lot_ of time) but they didn’t completely and entirely despise them anymore either.

The meeting between Thranduil and Thorin had gone much better than first assumed then. Much, _much_ , better.

Bilbo blushed a bit at the compliment. His mother had been extremely beautiful in her own right, and to think that someone saw her in him made him swell with happiness. Thorin tensed a bit beside him, but Bilbo thought nothing of the odd reaction for the time being.

“Thank you. My husband used to say the same,” he replied. Thranduil looked rather confused suddenly, a frown splitting the King’s lovely features.

“Used to? Are you not wed to the King Under the Mountain? I would think so, considering―”

“Thranduil,” Thorin called suddenly, catching the attention of both the Elven King and the Prince Consort Under the Mountain. “That is a sensitive topic. Bilbo was wed to my deceased brother.”

Thranduil took in this information. It took him a moment before he hummed, and looked at Bilbo. He tilted his head in something of an apologetic bow.

“My apologies. I’d had no knowledge of this,” he intoned. Bilbo looked a bit bewildered, wondering what had just happened in the interaction just now.

“It-It’s quite alright, no need to apologise,” he smiled. He looked at Thorin, who stared resolutely at his food, hiding a blush Bilbo couldn’t see.

“Is it safe to assume that the children I saw earlier are the product of yourself and the late Prince?” Thranduil asked this time, genuine intrigue in his voice. Bilbo’s smile widened and he nodded.

“Indeed, they are mine. Have you met either of them yet? Frerin and Thrain are lovely boys.” Thranduil shook his head.

“No, but they were speaking rather fluid Sindarin to a few exasperated Dwarves,” he chuckled.

“I think they need more lessons in Khuzdul then,” Kili mumbled. He and Fili’s attention had been entirely on Legolas, who proved he could act just as Dwarves did by playing with his food. They’d all had something of a competition of who could flick the most food onto each other’s plates. The three’s attention had only returned to the conversation when Legolas had laughed along with what his father had said.

“Oh really?” Legolas challenged. “I’d think they were fine with simply Sindarin.”

“You would think that, wouldn’t you, tree-shagger?” Fili replied, but there was no real malice behind his words.

“I’d think it and tell it to the stars themselves!”

“The stars would rather not hear you spouting nonsense, thanks,” Kili snorted.

“Well―”

“Legolas,” Thranduil chided. Legolas stopped and looked at his father, before looking back at Fili and Kili and then giving them something of a knowing smirk.

“As I was saying,” the Elf King continued, “Your children seem lovely from what I’ve seen of them so far. I’d like to formally meet them at some point, however.”

“I’ll see to it that it happens soon, then,” Bilbo agreed. He looked at Thorin, who had kept quiet. When he noticed the attention shifted to him, he cleared his throat a bit.

“I’ll ensure that Gloin and Dwalin have them back for tea,” he said. Bilbo’s smile was radiant, and it made Thorin’s heart flutter a bit in his chest. He looked away, however, and simply nodded.

“Then I shall meet them at tea,” Thranduil smiled a charming little smile. “Until then.”

[][][][][]

Bilbo caught up with Thorin after breakfast, catching the Dwarf king as he was walking through the doors. Thorin looked a little startled to see Bilbo by his side suddenly. Bilbo had felt like he should spend the time until tea with Thorin, since he hadn’t been able to do so very often while they were on the road.

“What are you planning today?” Bilbo asked as he matched his stride with Thorin’s. Thorin looked pensive for a moment.

“Nothing of import. Wandering mainly, to see more of the Greenwood,” he answered. “It is interesting, the architecture of the Elves. It differs greatly from Dwarven architecture, but there are also many similarities.”

Bilbo listened with rapt attention, nodding when Thorin pointed out a few wooden archways that were distinctly reminiscent of Dwarven stone archways. He gestured to the carved swirls in one of the doors they passed, telling Bilbo how the swirls meant different things in Dwarven culture, but probably nothing in Elven. Bilbo wasn’t too sure himself, so he didn’t disagree.

They were walking down an ornate set of stairs, Thorin mentioning the tinier details that went into the woodwork. Bilbo did his best to understand what Thorin was saying, and he was trying to get a better look at some of the carvings when he managed to trip.

“Bilbo!” Thorin shouted, reaching a hand out to catch the Hobbit before he could fall. He succeeded in only getting pulled down himself, but he twisted around so that he received the brunt of the fall, protecting Bilbo from the unforgiving floor.

The two landed with Bilbo atop Thorin, Thorin’s strong arms wrapped tightly around him. It took the poor Hobbit a moment to recollect himself, having braced his body for the impact to the floor, only for it to never come. Instead he was in a protective embrace, kept secure against the hard body he’d fallen onto. When no pain blossomed, he managed to open his eyes, and found himself trapped as he gazed into an endless sky blue that was both familiar and foreign, mesmerized.

His head at first thought of Frerin, but Bilbo’s heart, for some reason, thumped even harder when he remembered this most certainly was _not_ Frerin, but Thorin. The notion made his cheeks begin to burn red, as the close proximity allowed him to notice certain things about Thorin he had never even thought of before then. Like how Thorin’s eyelashes were incredibly long, fanning out over his cheeks when he blinked. Or how Thorin’s lips were a light shade of pink and slightly chapped, until an even pinker tongue darted out to wet them.

It took a moment before Bilbo collected himself entirely, and then he managed to break away from gazing at ruggedly handsome features. He stood and looked away from Thorin, who grunted when the weight was suddenly gone. He stood on his own, just as Bilbo had, and the two were quiet for a long while.

Then, Thorin spoke.

“It is approaching noon. We should head back soon,” he worked up the nerve to say. Bilbo still couldn’t meet his eye.

“Ah, right. I should―wash up before tea,” he agreed. He took a breath before he could speak again. “Could you―If it wouldn’t be any trouble, would you mind sending Frerin and Thrain up as well?”

Thorin nodded his head, and then remembered that Bilbo probably didn’t see him. “Yes. I’ll go fetch them now.”

Thorin seemed to all but run from Bilbo’s presence (and Bilbo wondered why he felt a pang in his heart when Thorin was gone). He tried to calm his fluttering heartbeat, asking himself again and again what had just happened, and why he’d felt feelings of _trust_ and _security_ and, if he was so bold to say, a certain kind of _love_ that could come from no one but his significant other. He convinced himself that the first two feelings were simply because Thorin was his brother-in-law and had felt an obligation to protect him.

But the last…

Shaking his head, Bilbo tried to clear his mind. The time really was growing close to tea, and he needed to clean himself up a bit before he presented himself before Thranduil again. With that in mind, he headed in what he hoped to be the general direction of his rooms.

[][][][][]

_“Oh my word―”_

_“Whoa!”_

_Bilbo winced as he landed on the ground, a much larger and heavier figure on top of him. He grunted and shifted, trying to get the person to move. He feared he may be suffocated to death at this rate._

_“I’m sorry, I didn’t see you there,” the person said, kneeling up a bit so that Bilbo was caged in by muscular arms. The person still hadn’t moved from atop him, but Bilbo could finally breathe easy._

_“It’s alright, I wasn’t looking where I was―Frerin?” Bilbo blinked in astonishment. Frerin looked down at him, surprised as well, before an easy smile broke out over his lips and his eyes glinted a bit. Bilbo didn’t know if he liked that look or not, especially since he couldn’t exactly read the emotions going through Frerin’s eyes._

_“Well, well, Master Hobbit, seems we’ve mee_ _t again,” Frerin chuckled._

_“We’ve been ‘meeting’ a lot in these last few days. I’m beginning to think it’s been on purpose,” Bilbo replied blandly, trying to calm the rapid beat of his heart and fight down a blush that threatened to overtake him._

_“And if it is?”_

_Bilbo looked up at the Dwarf, searching his eyes for any traces of a trick being played on him. He was beginning to believe someone had told Frerin of his affections for him, and that Frerin was merely playing games with his heart._

_However, the look in Frerin’s eyes said otherwise. Frerin seemed to show genuine interest in Bilbo and what the Hobbit thought, to the point of defending him even when it seemed like Bilbo was actually wrong. Frerin had been watching Bilbo since he’d arrived in the Shire half a year ago. Something about the young Halfling made the forge of his heart burn bright._

_“Well?” he asked, wanting some sort of answer to see what Bilbo would possibly say._

_“If it is, I’ll have to ask that we meet under slightly more proper conditions,” Bilbo snorted. He flashed Frerin a small smile. “Preferably for tea?”_

_Now it was Frerin’s turn to try not to blush. He coughed, looking away, and finally stood. He held a hand out to Bilbo to help him up, which the Hobbit took._

_“T-Tea would be lovely,” Frerin stuttered, just before he hauled Bilbo to his feet._

_Bilbo bit his lip to hide another smile._

_“Tea it is then.”_

[][][][][]

At tea, Frerin and Thrain were moving about constantly. They could barely stay in their own seats, even with Bilbo scolding them about how impolite it was to climb all over the place. The two fauntlings were absolutely _restless_ in their seats; they’d been forced to come upstairs earlier than Dwalin and Gloin and Dori had promised and now they simply wanted to have something to do. Bilbo only wished that they’d choose something other than climbing all over the Dwarves.

“Your father wishes the two of you to be seated,” Legolas smiled when Thrain finally made his way into his lap. Thrain stopped moving immediately, little cheeks turning pink as he made himself at home in Legolas’ lap.

Frerin was not as easy to tame. He continued to go all around until he’d made it into Nori’s lap. Nori was much faster than Frerin was, and each time the Dwarfling attempted to wiggle away he somehow found himself rooted to the spot. He looked up at Nori, pouting when the Dwarf merely grinned a wide grin at him.

“Mither Nori! That’th not fair!” he exclaimed. Nori laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at the the young child.

“On the contrary, Frerin, I think I’ve saved you from a scolding,” he countered. Frerin’s little brow knit together, and then he looked over at his Da, who was giving him an _extremely_ disapproving look. Immediately, he tried to hid in Nori’s cloak. The Dwarves around the table let out hearty laughs as they watched Frerin attempt to get away from his father’s eye.

“You all seem a lively bunch,” a new voice chuckled, which managed to quiet the group. Everyone looked up and spotted Thranduil, who was the last of everyone and had run late. He took his seat at the head of the table, smiling good naturedly. Some of the Dwarves had tensed up, their looks letting on that they weren’t entirely comfortable with the Elven King just yet. Bilbo, along with Balin and even Fili and Kili, relaxed, though.

“I’ve been looking forward to this,” Thranduil stated, glancing at Bilbo. Bilbo could only smile as he looked at Frerin and Thrain. Thrain was closer to Thranduil, what with being in Legolas’ lap. Frerin looked up from Nori’s cloak to see Thranduil, and his eyes went wide immediately.

“They asked about you, before we arrived. They wanted to see the King of the Greenwood just like their grandmother had,” Bilbo explained. “Frerin, Thrain, say hello to King Thranduil of the Greenwood.”

“Hello Mister King Thranduil of-of the Greenwood,” Thrain said, scrunching up his nose a bit when he stuttered. He looked up at Legolas for approval, who was only smiling.

“Hello, little one,” Thranduil smiled, inclining his head a bit. He looked down the table at Frerin who had disappeared from Nori’s lap apparently. He looked around before he felt a tug on his robes. To his immediate left stood the Dwarfling, his eyes wide and his face a little red.

“H-H-Hi,” Frerin stuttered. “C-Can I thit?”

Thranduil looked to Bilbo for a bit of guidance, who was shocked himself.

“He said- he wants to sit in your lap,” Bilbo clarified after gathering his wits a bit. Thranduil looked down at young Frerin who looked extremely shy now. He smiled.

“Yes, you may sit,” he appeased, moving so that he could lift Frerin into his lap. Frerin’s face turned even redder, and he mumbled a tiny “thank you” after being hoisted up. Thranduil hummed and then looked out over the table. A bunch of the Dwarves were just as shocked by this sudden development, but none more so than the Dwarf King himself. A few of them glared at him, but that was pretty easy to ignore. He was more interested in the (dare he say) _jealous_ look in Thorin’s eye, which kept flickering between him and Bilbo.

Bilbo, who was staring at Thranduil with a rather large smile on his face.

 _Well_ , Thranduil thought to himself as he brought a hand up to play in Frerin’s hair, _This is interesting._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If Thranduil (and Legolas) seems OOC it's because he kind of is, because I have this massively humongously ginormous crush on Lee Pace and any characters he plays as an extension and I fell in fricking love with Thranduil (even if it doesn't seem like it don't believe it I'm in love) and I had the desire to see him interact with small children.
> 
> I also know that the Dwarves' distrust in Elves isn't gonna go away overnight, so I tried to remember that as I was writing this. Also, I might throw in a side pairing or two that I enjoy ^-^
> 
> Another note, this story was originally supposed to be just 20 chapters, but as I get more ideas and split more chapters into twos instead of posting 6000-7000 word chapters I have to add onto the list. So far I'm up to 24 (without the side stories I've begun to write―surprise!).
> 
> Also, I wanted to get in some Thorin/Bilbo action since it feels like I'm lacking in that department (still haven't seen Bo5A to fuel me, sorry)
> 
> A friend of mine asked me why I kept using "fauntling" and "Dwarfling" interchangeably, to which I proceeded to explain that it all depended on the perspective. No one has used the word "Dwobbit" yet so from a Dwarves' perspective it's Dwarfling and from Bilbo's perspective it's "fauntling."
> 
> Finally, a certain Dwobbit has a crush on a certain Elf King~ (It's purely one-sided, though, since Frerin _is_ still a child and crushes come and go for him; Thranduil just thinks it's cute) (Thorin does not)
> 
>  ** _UPDATE!!!:_** I've finally seen Bo5A! And I agree with my best friend; WHO LET'S THESE DWARVES DO ANYTHING ON THEIR OWN?! NEVER AGAIN. NEVER EVER EVER.


	12. I Solemnly Swear

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "That I am up to no good"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You take some Harry Potter and LOTR.
> 
> Mix well.
> 
> Chapter heavily Thranduil centric with Bagginshield on the side (sorry not sorry)

King Thranduil of the Greenwood Kingdom was not blind.

Stubborn, maybe. Possibly a little manipulative, and definitely sneaky at times, but he most certainly wasn’t _blind_. He could clearly see the way the King Under the Mountain looked at Belladonna Baggins’s son. He could practically _feel_ the possessiveness heavy in the air whenever Bilbo’s eyes laid anywhere but upon Thorin. King Thranduil, if nothing else, could tell that Thorin, son of Thrain, wanted to be with Bilbo Baggins.

However, Thranduil could not figure out why the damned Dwarf King couldn’t simply _tell_ the Hobbit how he felt. Bilbo was an intelligent creature; he would figure it out for himself eventually (why he hadn’t already was certainly beyond Thranduil). But if Thorin didn’t say something soon about how he felt, another entirely would make their intention towards Bilbo known, and Thorin would lose his chance to be with such a beautiful creature forever.

Even though Thranduil and Thorin still had a few differences to work out, the Elven King figured that one way to work through them was by seeing if he could help Thorin in his quest for love. If he managed to get the (stupid, stubborn, thick-headed) Dwarrow to confess, they might be able to work things out further between their two kingdoms.

(This all, of course, also had nothing to do with Thranduil wanting to see the son of Belladonna Baggins happy, not at all. Well. Maybe a little.)

“My son,” Thranduil called from where he was sitting, a sleeping Hobbit babe in his lap. Bilbo’s eldest son had taken to him quite well, and had refused to leave Thranduil’s side for even a moment. With Bilbo’s consent, Thranduil had taken Frerin on a(nother) tour of the Greenwood palace, ending with Thranduil having a seat on a bench tucked away in an alcove, Legolas not far behind.

“Yes, father?” Legolas called, having been conversing with a close friend before being called out of his conversation.

“Tell me, have you seen the way the Dwarf King looks at our dear Hobbit friend?” Thranduil asked, though he knew already the answer he would be given. Legolas was the greatest archer in the kingdom and as such had perfect eyesight. Not to mention he was incredibly observant and would surely catch the longing looks Dwarf sent to Hobbit.

“Of course.” Legolas bid a quick goodbye to his red haired friend and walked over to sit next to his father. A hand reached out to stroke over Frerin’s golden hair, the tiny Hobbit child shifting and lifting a hand to bat at the one touching him before settling.

“How kindly do you think he will take to us… _helping_ him?” Thranduil looked at his son finally, and Legolas was surprised to see something mischievous gleam in his father’s eyes. A wide grin split Legolas’ features.

“I think he would be _very_ appreciative.”

[][][][][]

_“You should just **talk** to him, Dis, we won’t think any less of you,” Frerin sighed, rolling his eyes._

_“You don’t understand,” Dis snorted, shaking her head. “If I could ‘just talk to him’ I would have already.”_

_“What’s the problem, then?” Frerin had been trying to figure out why it was his baby sister was acting so shy for the last thirty minutes, but she had given virtually nothing away._

_Just then, their brother walked through the door of the tavern they’d taken up residence in. There had been grander places to stay in Ered Luin but the three royal siblings had opted for a smaller tavern that would allow them to be discreet about their stay. The fewer that knew about them being away from home, the better._

_Thorin wasn’t making things easy, though._

_“Dis, Frerin, what are the two of you doing?” the eldest of the children of Thrain demanded, standing before the tiny table his siblings sat at and effectively blocking the view of the bar._

_“ **Nothing** , Thorin, except minding our own,” Dis retorted, not allowing her brother to push her around at all._

_Thorin looked to Frerin who merely smiled an innocent smile that made Thorin even more suspicious. The eldest Durin heir said nothing, however._

_“I’m heading up to our rooms for the night. I advise the two of you to do the same before any trouble starts,” Thorin looked pointedly at Frerin, who feigned shock at the insinuation._

_“Of course! We’ll be up soon to wash behind our ears and wait for nadad to tuck us in and read us a story!” the younger brother replied, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Dis laughed, open and hearty, at the annoyed expression on Thorin’s face._

_“We’ll be up soon enough, Thorin. Honestly, we aren’t children anymore,” Dis said after her laugh had died down. Thorin gave the two of them a suspicious glance before heading up to bed, just as he said he would._

_When he was out of earshot, Dis spoke, “ **He’s** the problem.”_

_Frerin understood immediately. “You can’t always be worried about what nadad says, nan'ith. Thorin’s opinion won’t always matter. Especially when it involves someone who may be your One.”_

_Dis looked back towards the bar, where the barkeep was speaking with another Dwarf, a large grin on his face as he laughed at some joke or another. She looked at Frerin, whose eyes held encouragement, and she stood. Taking a deep breath, she worked up the courage to walk over to the bar. Frerin smiled as he watched his sister strike up conversation with the other Dwarf._

_“I just hope Vili can handle her.”_

[][][][][]

“Uncle, there’s something we want to ask you,” Kili said as he sat on Thorin’s bed. Fili was reclining beside him, the two of them watching Thorin as he moved about his chambers.

“What is it?” Thorin asked as he shucked off his heavy coat and placed it aside.

“Do you… have feelings… for Bilbo?” Kili’s question was asked slowly, so as not to possibly anger Thorin.

The Dwarrow King froze in his actions, his cheeks heating up a bit at the simple mention of his brother-in-law. He knew, though, that he could not lie to his nephews. They were smarter than he gave them credit for and extremely observant. Eventually they would see that the looks Thorin threw Bilbo’s way were not that of platonic affection, but of romantic intent.

“Your mother used to tell the two of you tales of Dwarrow finding their One in someone else’s One, didn’t she?” he questioned instead of answering.

“Yes, I remember,” Fili spoke up, “She said that sometimes it happened, and that some even tried to kidnap the other.”

Thorin knew the tales frontward and backward. He had never thought he would be the star of his own, but he supposed that the Durin luck _would_ lead him to this.

“That is the situation I faced when Frerin introduced me to Bilbo. And I hope it never happens to the two of you,” Thorin looked over at his nephews, both now sitting up and watching him with barely contained sympathy in their eyes.

“Well… Uncle Frerin is―gone now, so couldn’t you be with Uncle Bilbo?” Kili asked now. Thorin shook his head.

“That is Bilbo’s choice. Though I’m sure he has a thorough understanding of what a One is, I don’t think he would believe me if I told him he was my One. Even worse, I do not want him to feel forced into being with me. It is his right to choose.” Thorin looked pained to admit it, but he stood by his words. He would not push Bilbo into a relationship if Bilbo’s feelings towards him were not the same.

“That doesn’t seem very fair,” Kili frowned. Fili placed a hand on Kili’s shoulder.

“If Uncle forces Bilbo to be with him that makes him no better than those Dwarrow in the stories that would kidnap their One,” he elaborated. Kili didn’t seem satisfied with that explanation.

“I still think Uncle and Bilbo should be together,” he mumbled. Fili patted Kili’s shoulder.

“I do as well, brother, but Uncle can do nothing but hope Bilbo feels the same some day.”

Thorin didn’t tell them that he wouldn’t even hope for that much. No use in shattering their own hopes just because he had none.

[][][][][]

_“Tell me, my child, how do you feel about the candidate for Captain of the Guard?” Thranduil asked as he leisurely sipped from his wine goblet._

_“Tauriel? She is… a friend, father. Kind and strong. She is an excellent candidate,” Legolas answered, though the red in his cheeks did not go unnoticed by his father._

_“Do you feel some sort of affection towards her? She is quite beautiful after all.”_

_“Father!” Legolas looked surprised to hear the words come from his father’s mouth. Thranduil merely sipped more of his wine, before putting the cup down to get a better look at his son._

_“She is someone I would consider good for you. But it is entirely your choice if you wish to pursue a relationship with her.” He smiled warmly, stunning Legolas into silence. Thranduil chuckled then._

_“Besides, I would adore to have grandchildren helping me make pies in the kitchens.”_

_“Father!”_

[][][][][]

“Tell me, Master Bilbo, how do you feel about Thorin Oakenshield?”

Bilbo sputtered at the sudden question, having not expected it from Thranduil of all people. It seemed a bit… out of place to come from the Elven King of all the people.

“He is my brother, I suppose… Though I don’t know if I can look at him as such yet,” Bilbo cleared his throat, organizing his thoughts a bit. “I enjoy his company and he is a wonderful help with the boys.”

“Hm…” Thranduil’s slow smile made Bilbo’s spine tingle with a hint of fear. The Hobbit cleared his throat.

“Why do you ask?” he figured he should question, since Thranduil’s curiosity was a bit odd.

Thranduil didn’t answer, choosing instead to tilt his head curiously, leaving Bilbo to try to decipher what was he was hinting at. The possible answer completely slipped by Bilbo, and he looked around for a distraction of any sort to possibly take the Elven King’s intense eyes off of him.

Thankfully, he didn’t need to look long before one found him.

“Ah, Bilbo! Come, there is something I wish to teach you,” the voice of Nori flowed over Bilbo’s head, and the Hobbit looked over.

“Yes? What is it?” Bilbo coughed. He looked back at Thranduil, whose eyes had never left Bilbo’s form. “If- If you’ll excuse me, then.” He smiled politely, and watching something flash in Thranduil’s eyes before the Elven King smiled as well, bowing his head.

“We will continue this conversation at dinner, hopefully?” Thranduil hummed.

“Err, yes, of course,” Bilbo replied politely. He bowed his head once more before all but running in Nori’s direction, still feeling the intelligent eyes of Thranduil watching him closely.

Once he and Nori were out of sight, Bilbo breathed a heavy sigh of relief. He turned to the Dwarrow, who was grinning like a madman.

“You ever tried stealing before, Master Baggins?”

That one sentence was all Bilbo needed to know that things would not end well.

[][][][][]

And sometimes Bilbo wished he was wrong about knowing when things would not end well.

Nori was teaching him how to _pickpocket_ of all the useless skills to have. The Spymaster was showing Bilbo how to follow and take things without being immediately noticed. There was also the “bumping into his purse” tactic, where Bilbo ‘accidentally’ walked into someone and ended up slipping his hand into their clothing and taking their purse out.

Nori had demonstrated both skills perfectly, before urging Bilbo to do the same. Bilbo knew that Nori would not leave him alone until Bilbo did it himself, and so the Hobbit resigned himself to putting the new “skills” to the test.

The first tactic went smoothly (with Bilbo ensuring that he returned the money to the Elf immediately after, much to Nori’s dismay). The second, however…

The way Nori had wanted Bilbo to execute the second skill involved Bilbo bumping into the next person that turned the corner they were at. This would have gone well if not for the fact that the next person that rounded the corner was none other than Thorin, who barely budged when he was rammed into by a Hobbit body. Instead, he yanked Bilbo in close by the hand that had reached for his side, and blinked in astonishment when he heard his kin cry out in pain.

“Bilbo?” he frowned.

“Thorin!” Bilbo coughed. He smiled sheepishly.

“What were you doing?”

Bilbo looked back to see that Nori had taken off. _Of course._

“Um, it would seem that I’ve, ah, tripped into you?” Bilbo lied on impulse. Curse his cousins for making him want to save the ass of anyone that didn’t want to be caught.

“I can see that, Hobbit.” Thorin rose an eyebrow. “And how exactly did you manage that? Last I heard Hobbits are light on their feet.”

Bilbo turned bright pink to the tips of his pointed ears. Thorin smiled a bit.

“Was this Nori’s doing?” he asked.

“I-In a way…”

Thorin tilted his head to the side a bit, waiting for Bilbo to elaborate. When he didn’t, the King Under the Mountain chuckled and shook his head. They stood for a moment longer, just gazing at each other, before Bilbo’s arm began to cramp up, since it was still being held over his head by Thorin and they were still pressed together.

“Thorin, my arm?” the Hobbit managed to say.

“Hm? Oh, yes, my apologies.” Thorin let go of Bilbo and took a step back, the two of them now a few short paces away from each other.

“I should go and check up on the boys. I had Legolas watching them earlier,” Bilbo decided. Thorin’s expression changed into that of a displeased stare, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Bilbo this time.

“What’s wrong?” he asked.

“It is nothing,” Thorin shook his head. He turned and began walking in the direction he had initially come from.

“Ah, Thorin?” Bilbo called. Thorin stopped and turned, looking at Bilbo and wondering what it was the Hobbit wanted.

“Would it be possible for us to continue our lessons?” Bilbo smiled. Thorin’s eyebrows raised in surprise, before a soft look fell over his features and he nodded.

“Of course. Would tonight be alright?” he asked.

“Tonight would be lovely.”

[][][][][]

“Well played, Master Thief,” Thranduil praised, standing just behind Nori who was watching the scene that had played out with triumph in his eyes. “Though I’m still certain you had no clue what it was you were doing.”

“Even if that was the truth, _Your Majesty_ , I’ve still done better than you,” Nori retaliated. Thranduil said nothing in response, choosing instead to turn and head from the shadowed area they were hiding in.

“We’ll just have to see, Master Thief.”

[][][][][]

“Mither King Thranduil?” Frerin’s eyes went wide when the king of the Elven realm kneeled to look him in the eye, a kind smile on his face a pie in his hands. The Hobbit child looked positively flustered; his face was red to the tips of his ears.

“Might I ask of you a favour, young gentlechild?” the Elven King smiled sweetly. “Your Uncle asked me to gift this to your father as a parting gift before you all leave, but I cannot for I’ve an urgent matter to attend to. Could I request that you do such a task for me?”

The way Thranduil spoke and his kind demeanor made Frerin nod immediately, turning a shade redder if it was possible. Frerin took the pie in hand and looked up at Thranduil for approval, whose smile only stretched further. He reached a hand over to gently stroke over Frerin’s golden hair, and then stood to his full height once more. Once standing, he did a sweeping bow.

“My thanks to you, fair gentlehobbit,” Thranduil winked. Frerin made a terrible noise that sounded more like a squeak than anything else, before turning and racing off to take the pie to his father. Thranduil watched him go with a fond smile.

“He really does seem to hold affection for you,” Legolas observed, stepping out of a doorway.

Thranduil’s smile softened a bit. “He’s very sweet, though a bit of a troublemaker. Not unlike a certain son of mine that used to be the same.”

Legolas coughed, turning away when his father’s knowing eyes landed on him.

“Those days are long gone, Ada,” the Prince stated.

“Are they really? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you act around the two Dwarven Princes.” Thranduil chuckled a bit. “Though you’ve grown, I don’t think you’ll ever be able to stop acting that way.” Though to anyone else the words would have seemed harsh, Legolas knew they were said with fondness.

He managed a small smile when his father’s chuckle turned into a laugh.

[][][][][]

_“Your boy is at it again, Thranduil,” Elrond sighed as he listened to his two sons shout about something or other._

_“Can you blame him? He’s rather excited to play with others his age,” Thranduil sighed. He watched as Legolas jumped over Elladan, avoiding being touched in their little game._

_“He’s the youngest of your children, isn’t he? And the others have all headed North, haven’t they?” Elrond frowned._

_“Indeed they have. He misses them at times, but he’s taken his duties as the present Crown Prince very seriously.” Thranduil shook his head. “I feel that I may be putting too much pressure on him to grow up, since he’ll only be young like this for a few more years…”_

_“You worry too much, cousin.” The boys came running through them, the twins yelling about how Legolas was cheating and should have switched roles with one of them already, and Legolas stating that he wouldn’t. The sight made the two adults smile._

_“The two of you should stay a while longer. No wars will break out in the next week or two; a bit of vacation would do you both good,” Lord Elrond proposed. King Thranduil seemed to consider this notion as he looked over at his son, who had scaled a tree in his attempt to get away from Elladan and Elrohir._

_“That sounds like a wonderful idea.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took forever mainly because when I got the motivation to write and finish it... my internet went out. Tragic, I know.
> 
> Also, a flashback to Dis! And Frerin! And Thorin! I know some of these flashback sequences don't seem to make much sense right now, but everything is connected, I promise.
> 
> Also, are there any questions? I plan to be answering any and all questions on this chapter because I know a bit of an explanation on some stuff (that won't be explained in detail later) is due.
> 
> I really loved writing the two end scenes because of my profound love for Thranduil and Legolas.


	13. Mischief

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Managed"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See what I did there for the title/summary of this chapter and last chapter? So clever.

_Frerin had never felt such **fury** toward anyone like he did his brother at the moment. It was blinding; boiling in his veins like he would explode if he didn’t let it out soon. He had never been the calm, collected, sibling (that was mainly Dis), nor had he even been the stoic and quiet sibling (that was damnable, **fucking** Thorin). He was the passionate and outgoing sibling; the sibling that said what was on his mind when he needed to._

_And boy, did he have words for Thorin._

_“You are always, **always** , doing this to me!” Frerin shouted at his brother. Thorin sat with an even mask upon his features, taking the words in stride._

_“What are you on about, Frerin?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know._

_“You take **everything** from me! You’ve done it since we were **children**! I’m sick and tired of you always having to have things your way, simply because you’re the oldest!” Frerin slammed his hand down on the table._

_“Frerin, your brother has your best interests at heart―” King Thrain tried to say, but Frerin would have none of it._

_“He is **constantly** taking things from me! Every bit of happiness I could have, he has to steal! He could have anything he wants and he always chooses whatever I’ve chosen!” Frerin glared through angry tears._

_“You could hardly handle your own hunting party, Frerin, I’ve simply taken the burden from you,” Thorin snorted, as if that was where the root of the problem lied. It made Frerin seethe to think that his arrogant brother would assume such things._

_“ **You are ignoring the point!** ” He stood finally, and his hands slammed down on the table. “For once in our lives, I wish you would stop this―this madness!”_

_“Frerin, wait!” The Queen herself finally spoke, but she was too late as Frerin left the table to head to his own rooms._

_“I don’t understand his problem,” Thorin frowned, looking between his father (who was exasperated), his mother (who was worried for her other son) and his sister (who stared at him as if he had just said he wanted to grow the ears of an Elf)._

_“You are an idiot, Thorin,” Dis stated as she stood and followed after Frerin._

[][][][][]

Thorin stared at the two beads in his hands. He’d made one of them himself, years ago, after he’d first seen Bilbo at the wedding. The moment he had returned to the Lonely Mountain he’d taken to the forges and made a bead of intent, one he wanted so badly to give to Bilbo. But he simply couldn’t bring himself to do it. He could never bring himself to do it. He didn’t want to take from Frerin, not again, not after promising that he would never do such a thing anymore. Which was why he had to give the other to Bilbo instead.

“Uncle?” a tiny voice called out to the Dwarrow, who nearly jumped out of his own skin when he realized the small child had managed to creep up on him.

“What is it _masmith_?” Thorin smiled as he picked Thrain up and sat him on his lap. Thrain leaned against Thorin and was silent for a long moment, before finally speaking.

“Do you think Da will get upset if I marry Mister Legolas?”

Now _that_ had most certainly not been what Thorin had been expecting Thrain to say. The question had completely, utterly, and entirely caught Thorin off guard, and he had to compose himself before he could answer. What had even possessed Thrain to ask that? And an even better question yet, _how_ was Thorin supposed to _respond_?

“Ah, well. That is―why would you want to marry Mister Legolas, Thrain? You’re still _very_ young,” Thorin coughed. Thrain wrinkled his nose (looking exactly like his Hobbit father as he did so).

“Because I love him,” the Dwarfling stated, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “And Da always said that if you really, really, really love somebody, you should get married.”

“But only if they love you as well,” a new voice stated, sternly.

Dwarf and Dwarfling looked back to see Bilbo watching them, a fond smile on his face.

“D-Da!” Thrain stuttered. It was clear that he hadn’t expected his father to hear him. He looked up at Thorin, hoping his Uncle would be able to help him out.

“Bilbo,” Thorin greeted, managing a smile that was a twitch away from being a grimace.

“Hello, Thorin,” Bilbo nodded. He walked over, running a hand over Thrain’s brown hair. He hummed. “Either we need to cut your hair or we’ll have to have Dori braid it again.”

“I could,” Thorin said immediately.

“Really? Da! Da! Can Uncle Thorin braid my hair?” Thrain sounded giddy.

Thorin cleared his throat when Bilbo looked surprised. “I could braid his hair. And Frerin’s. A familial braid is due anyway, and I’ve the beads Frerin himself forged for his children.”

Thorin reached into the pouch on his side and produced four beads of gold, inlaid with tourmaline, lepidolite, and emeralds. He looked up at Bilbo. “I suppose he had dearly hoped for four instead of two.”

Bilbo stared at the beads, and then brought a hand up to cover his mouth when he made a strangled noise. He took a seat, next to Thorin and Thrain, and Thorin immediately recognized tears in Bilbo’s eyes. Thrain seemed to notice them as well, for he immediately climbed into Bilbo’s lap to hug his Da.

“It’s okay, Da,” he said. Bilbo hugged Thrain, rubbing the young faunt’s back.

“Why don’t you go and find your brother, hmm? Maybe Mister Ori will help you with your sketches.” Bilbo looked Thrain in the eye, managing a smile. Thrain nodded, and climbed down from Bilbo’s lap. He ran off, leaving Bilbo with Thorin, who was concerned for his brother-in-law.

Once Thrain was out of sight, Bilbo spoke.

“He never knew,” he started. Thorin frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“Their father. Your brother. My―My husband. Frerin. He never knew about them. He never knew that I―” Bilbo choked a bit, “I never told him that I could bear child. He’d never known.”

Thorin looked astonished at the news.

“But he talked so fondly of the two of you having children,” he pointed out.

“He always said that we would adopt children. I agreed with him, because there were children that did not have parents to love them.” Bilbo stopped.

“What happened?” Thorin felt like he already knew the answer to the question. It was confirmed when Bilbo looked up at him, a bitter smile gracing his features.

“He left for Moria.”

[][][][][]

_It was the last night of camp before they would reach Moria. Thror was among the Dwarrow that planned to possibly give their lives in the attempt to help reclaim the ancient Mines of Moria._

_Frerin sat with Dwalin and Thorin, staring down at a sketching in his hands. Dwalin leaned over, and a dark chuckle left him when he saw what the etching was of._

_“What?” Frerin demanded._

_“If you die, lad, you won’t return to him,” Dwalin pointed out._

_“Who says I plan to die?” Frerin countered._

_“Frerin,” Thorin scolded. The other heir to the Durin line quieted, and he folded up the etching and put it away. He looked between his closest confidants before his eyes stayed on Thorin._

_“Besides,” he grinned, a grim expression of what could be. “If I die, Thorin’ll take good care of Bilbo for me. Won’t you Thorin?”_

_Thorin looked startled to hear the words, but his eyes hardened immediately after. “Stop that nonsense, Frerin. You are not dying tomorrow.”_

_Frerin wished he was kidding. “I’m serious Thorin.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out something. He threw it to his brother, who caught it on instinct. “That’s the bead I never got around to giving to Bilbo. His hair’s too short after all. Along with it are the beads I forged for our children... I want you to give them to him for me.”_

_Thorin looked at the pouch and then threw it back to Frerin. “Give them to him yourself.”_

_Frerin blinked for a moment, and then laughed, loud and raucous. He tied the pouch back to his side, eyes sparkling._

_“Alright, maybe I will.”_

[][][][][]

Bilbo had left to find Bombur, having promised to speak with the round Dwarf about going through the Elven kitchens. There were sure to be ingredients they would find there that couldn’t be found anywhere else in the world, and Bombur planned to take some of them with him to the Lonely Mountain. After the Hobbit had confided in the Dwarf, Thorin had felt even worse about falling in love with Bilbo. He felt as if it was his fault Frerin had never returned home to see his two children.

The last thing Thorin needed was an Elven King sitting down next to him on the bench (that seemed to be a rather well liked spot in the last few days). Thorin felt his lip twitch when said Elven King was seated rather regally, the other Dwarfling held in his arms, fast asleep.

“His medicine makes him rather clingy, hmm? He gets very sleepy and he wouldn’t even allow me to put him down for the nap,” Thranduil shook his head. “But he is not in pain, and it seems his teeth have finally finished growing in.”

Thorin said nothing. He took the information in stride, glad for one that his nephew was finally starting to feel better. Bilbo had likened the feeling of teeth growing in to having your bones physically pulled on until they came through, and that the only reason Frerin hadn’t felt the pain was because Oin had mixed that wonderful salve that went on Frerin’s gums.

“Belladonna Baggins’ son is something else, isn’t he?” Thranduil looked at Thorin now, who continued his silence. “He carried his sons himself, and gave birth to them, one after the other.”

Thorin finally looked at Thranduil, and was shocked (though he did not show it) to see a concerned expression on Thranduil’s face.

“What?” Thorin demanded, because he needed to know what garnered such an expression from the high and mighty Elf King.

“You look at him as if he is the stars themselves; why do you not tell him how you feel?” Thranduil asked, genuinely confused. “You do not make it known that you love him beyond a brother.”

Thorin didn’t know if Thranduil was asking because he actually cared or because he had something to gain by Thorin telling Bilbo his feelings. Thinking of nothing that Thranduil could gain, Thorin heaved a heavy sigh and allowed his shoulders to sag a bit.

“My brother married him,” he began. “He married him because he loved him first, and I would no sooner step in and seem like a horrid, vile soul to take advantage of my brother’s one after my brother is gone.”

Thranduil tilted his head in confusion. “Nothing about that makes you a vile soul, Thorin Oakenshield. You love him; you are not taking him from your brother by loving him.”

“How could you understand?” Thorin countered, feeling as though Thranduil _didn’t_.

“I have seen it happen by my own eyes.” When the Elven King said this he stroked a hand over Frerin’s curls, and smiled when the little child shifted to get ever closer to Thranduil. Thorin felt his anger let up at the sight. “I’ve seen others wither and Fade, because they’ve loved someone they thought did not love them, only to have the opposite be true.”

Thranduil looked at Thorin now. “Tell him. You are better off knowing than not. This feeling will eat at you until it consumes you, and then you will turn to other, more toxic things to fill the ache in your chest.”

And with that Thranduil stood, leaving Thorin to think to himself. The Dwarf King looked back over the edge of the balcony, lost in thought. In his hands he clutched the beads.

He needed to do something soon.

[][][][][]

_“Frerin!” Thorin shouted as he ran to his brother, who had fallen when a remaining Orc slashed its axe across his brother’s chest. Thorin plunged his sword in the horrid being’s throat, and pulled it free to kneel next to Frerin, who coughed and spluttered blood._

_“Thorin,” Frerin managed, when Thorin tried to stop the bleeding._

_“It will be fine, Frerin, you will be alright,” Thorin could tell that the wound was deep and Frerin was losing too much blood._

_“Thorin,” Frerin said again, and he held up something clutched in his hand. Thorin recognized it immediately._

_“No, I said give it to him yourself!” Thorin argued._

_“I would… If I were able…” Frerin coughed. He winced, and his eyelids began to droop. Thorin was growing frantic._

_“Stay awake, Frerin, stay. Awake.”_

_“Give it to him… please…” Frerin put the pouch into Thorin’s hands. He smiled, looking up toward the sky, where the sun was finally beginning to peek through the clouds. “I always knew… Thorin… I always… knew…”_

_Before Thorin could even ask what it was Frerin had known his brother’s eyes stopped seeing and his heart stopped beating and his blood stopped pumping. An anguished cry left Thorin and he hugged the lifeless body of his brother close, not wanting to believe that he had lost his closest friend._

_Frerin, son of Thrain, Prince Under the Mountain, brother to Thorin and Dis, and husband to Bilbo Baggins, was lost that day._

_Thorin mourned._

[][][][][]

It was their last night in the Greenwood, and Bilbo needed to sit Frerin and Thrain down and speak with them before they did anything they (or Bilbo) might come to regret in the future. He had seen the way they clung to the Elven King and Prince and he heard Thrain’s little “confession” to Thorin and he decided that it was finally time to talk to the two of them about it. He knew that they were only a small child’s fleeting fancy, but still.

“Frerin, Thrain,” Bilbo gave them pointed looks after dinner, when the two wanted to bound off with the Elves again. “Come here. We need to talk.”

The twins looked at each other, fearful that they may have done something wrong, and then followed after their Da, who wandered a bit. The two caught up with their Da and each took a hand, making Bilbo smile.

“Is there anything you want to tell me? About Mister Legolas and Master Thranduil?” he hummed. The two children’s eyes went wide, and Thrain blushed a bright pink while a large smile formed on Frerin’s face.

“We really, really, _really_ , like Mister Thranduil and Mister Legolas,” Frerin stated. “A lot.”

“Yes, dear, I know you do,” Bilbo chuckled.

“When we leave… Can we come back to visit them sometimes?” Thrain asked quietly.

“Of course. I think they may even come visit us in the mountain a time or two.” Bilbo looked down at the two of them. The two looked excited to hear that they could.

“So you aren’t upset that we’ll be leaving tomorrow? That it may be a long time before you see them again?” Bilbo inquired, trying to let them know without saying it that it may be months before they saw the Elven King and Prince again.

“Well, I asked Mister Thranduil if it was okay to marry him, and he said maybe when I’m older, so I’m gonna get big like Uncle Thorin and marry Mister Thranduil,” Frerin nodded resolutely, making Bilbo falter in his steps a bit.

“Well if you marry Mister Thranduil than _I’m_ marrying Mister Legolas!” Thrain declared.

“Nu uh!” Frerin’s nose wrinkled up at the thought. “Nope!”

“Why not?”

“Because I said so and I’m older.”

Thrain looked up at Bilbo. “Da! Frerin says I can’t marry Mister Legolas!”

All Bilbo could do was smile at his two children’s antics. Well. This was certainly interesting.

“I’ll marry who I like!”

“I won’t let you!”

Definitely interesting.

[][][][][]

The Caravan left early the next morning. Frerin and Thrain were barely awake to say goodbye to Legolas and Thranduil. The Dwarves were actually somewhat reluctant to leave, having made good friends with the Elves, surprisingly enough.

“Tauriel owes me another duel,” Fili grumbled.

“So that I may best you again?” a red haired Elven lass laughed.

“She didn’t beat me!” Kili proclaimed loudly.

“Only because I did,” Legolas added in. The two Elves stared at the two Dwarves with fire in their eyes and vice versa.

“We want a rematch. On Dwarven soil,” Fili decided. The four nodded at each other.

“I lost good money on those matches,” Gloin grumbled, while Nori counted his coin.

“Aye, but I gained quite a bit,” the thief snickered.

“I’m surprised the Elves could make _actual_ music!” Bofur sighed. “I’ll have to come again during one of their festivals.”

“Their remedies are odd, but effective,” Oin decided, and he’d grabbed a few things for his own medicine bag to bring along with him. Bombur looked over and hummed.

“They’ve also got pretty good food. Not just leaves. Pies!” he laughed.

“Pies?” Ori looked up from where his pony was next to Dori’s.

“Nothing with blueberries in it, surely, Ori can’t have those,” the silver-haired Dwarf tutted.

“We’d best be getting off then. We’re expected at the mountain by sundown,” Balin pointed out. Dwalin steered his pony to the front of the group, and gave Thorin a pointed look.

“Is everyone ready?” Thorin called across the Caravan.

“Aye!” Most of the Dwarrows replied. Bilbo had only just mounted his pony with Thorin’s help, not noticing the way Thorin’s hands lingered on his thigh. He looked to Frerin and Thrain.

“Bye Mister Legolas, bye Mister Thranduil,” the boys chorused.

“Until we next meet, _lirimaerea_ ,” Legolas waved.

“Indeed, we look forward to seeing you again in a few months time,” Thranduil winked. The two boys turned pink and sunk down into the wagon, heading themselves, but the tips of their red ears could still be seen by the Elves.

Once the Caravan was out of earshot, Legolas turned to his father.

“So what of Thorin and Bilbo’s relationship?” the Elf Prince asked. Thranduil was pensive for a moment, before he smiled.

“That, my dear child, is something for only time to tell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations;  
> Masmith - Jewel (That is young)  
> Lirimaerea - Lovely Ones
> 
> *originally planned for this fic to have only 20 chapters* *wonders how it got to be 27 in my notes*
> 
> Okay so, uh, announcements sorta?
> 
> The next month is gonna get hella hectic for me, since my school year ends on June 23rd. I've gotta turn in projects over the course of the next three weeks, and I have to study for finals in all my classes, AND I have to get ready for this trip to Chicago for my Aunt's graduation, AND I have to prepare for my ROTC camp that's from the 27th of June to the 2nd of July. Soooo there's a lot happening in the next month. I also have to work on getting a job.
> 
> Because there's gonna be so much happening, I'm gonna be doing a lot more writing as stress relief. Now, I'm not saying that I'm gonna crank out full length chapters of fic, but what I mean is that I'll probably get short bursts of ideas and post them here as stories (like Erebor if you've read that fic) or just post a bunch of one shots for a series (like Rose of Every Colour (if you've read that) or the series that'll be following it). I've already got half a journal filled with ideas for fics, and about 60% of them are Hobbit related.
> 
> As for this chapter, I think it's one of the more sadder ones. We see why Thorin is so reluctant to be with Bilbo. And what's this? Frerin II showing some of that older brother protectiveness over Thrain? Isn't that cute awwww.
> 
> Finally, what is it that you think Frerin I knew?


	14. My Weakness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Is Also My Strength"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *says this story is on a hiatus in another work* *gets inspiration and updates a week later*

Frerin and Thrain were faced with a dilemma.

The Caravan had arrived in Dale in a little under three hours, and the two boys had been let free in the castle of King Bard, pretty much left to their own devices (there were guards at every corner, after all, so they were perfectly safe, and besides, Bard wanted to get to know Bilbo, since he’d been close friends with Frerin when they were young, and the Hobbit just had to be truly phenomenal to have contained the free spirited Frerin). They were now huddled in a corner, whispering and conspiring together.

“I think Uncle Thorin really likes Da,” Thrain said in hushed tones, not wanting the guard watching them to overhear their conversation (the Man could, of course, but he said nothing, since it really wasn’t any of his business, but the two young Dwarflings? Hobbitlings? ...Dwobbitlings? were very cute).

“Of course he does,” Frerin frowned, confused. “They’re brothers.”

But Thrain shook his head. “No, I mean really, really, _really_ likes Da. Not like you and me. Like how Mister Nori likes Mister Dwalin.”

Now that made Frerin think. He had seen the way Mister Nori teased Mister Dwalin; always taking his things and hiding them, and he would get a weird look in his eyes when Mister Dwalin wasn’t looking. He acted just as Frerin had with Lola Brandybuck (and boy did he hope she wasn’t upset when he had to come back to the Shire and tell her that he was marrying an Elf king, and not her) when they were first getting to know each other. He’d taken a lot of her things, and teased her, and pulled her hair, and it had taken his Da explaining that that was the wrong way to express his feelings to her for him to finally stop.

“But Uncle Thorin never takes Da’s things or teases him,” Frerin frowned.

“But he gets that weird look when Da is sleeping. And he smiles like the sun when Da looks at him,” Thrain clarified.

“Oh,” Frerin paused in thought. Then, he looked at Thrain, a frown creasing his tiny brow, “How come you know this stuff and I don’t, Thrain?”

Thrain smiled, rather pleased with himself now that his brother seemed to see things the way he saw them.

“Because, ‘Rin. I pay ‘tention.”

[][][][][]

_“What do you think of my husband?”_

_Thorin jumped slightly when he heard the voice of his younger sibling just behind him. He looked back at Frerin, who walked closer and sat down on the bench next to him before looking back up at the stars above them._

_“Hmm…” Thorin thought about Bilbo Baggins, the Hobbit his brother had married nearly two months prior._

_“He is… Small,” the elder Heir started, “And seems a bit more quick witted and headstrong than what you used to go for.”_

_Frerin’s face went from expressionless to knowing, and then to a smile, all without Thorin noticing._

_“Well, maybe I’ve finally decided that I wanted to be with someone willing to challenge me instead of someone who will just roll over because of my status.” The words were said in a nonchalant manner, but Thorin knew what was laced just beneath them._

_“He is a fine person to have as a One. He’ll keep you on your feet, and he won’t let you push him around. He’s good for you,” Thorin looked at his brother and gave him the rare smile he reserved just for Frerin. The one that told his youngest sibling that he was very proud of everything he did, no matter what. The one Thorin had started giving him just several years prior._

_“Aye… Aye, he is.”_

[][][][][]

“Thorin,” Bilbo called, trying to catch up with the Dwarf who walked the streets of Dale. Thorin stopped when he heard the call of his name, turning to see who it had come from and looking surprised to find Bilbo. The Hobbit smiled up at Thorin when he had finally managed to reach him, and that look alone made Thorin’s heart beat faster in his chest.

“Is it alright if we walk together?” Bilbo requested.

“O-of course. I would love to be able to show you around, if you’d like. Dale is very important to Erebor, and vice versa is also true, I’m sure,” Thorin cleared his throat a bit. “With your duties as Prince Consort, you may have to take many trips to Dale in order to negotiate.”

Bilbo nodded slowly. He was slowly starting to understand the different duties the Prince Consort held; Balin had been telling him about them recently and so he had started to learn what they were and how he was supposed to do them. He wouldn’t be held to them until the day after they arrived in the mountain (tomorrow since it was only maybe two hours ride from Dale to Erebor) but it was good for him to know them sooner.

“Dale is rather beautiful. And full of _life_ ,” Bilbo breathed, taking in the air filled with different scents. Spices, bread baking, perfumes, and so much more made up the air in Dale. Laughter from children and adults alike could be heard all around, and there was always something or other happening. It truly was a bustling city.

“Yes. There is a wonderful view of the city at sunset from one of the windows in the mountain,” Thorin agreed. He paused, trying to figure out if he wanted to tell Bilbo more about the room the window was in.

“Thorin?” Bilbo’s brow knit together. Thorin shifted from foot to foot, and then decided he may as well continue.

“The room that houses that window, it is technically yours.”

Bilbo didn’t even need Thorin to say more on the matter. “It was his, wasn’t it? My husband’s.”

Thorin rushed to change the subject, “If it pains you to speak about him you do not―”

“No, no!” Bilbo hurriedly shook his head, laughing a bit at the confusion in Thorin’s eyes and the slight flush on his cheeks. He smiled, gazing towards the skyline, “I like talking about him. Reminds me that he’s not truly gone.”

The gentle tug of Bilbo’s lips that signified his happiness, his plain and open expression, made Thorin’s eyes widen just a fraction. The Dwarrow King reached a hand up to scratch at the back of his head, and then he spoke again.

“I can tell you more about him. Anything he never thought to tell you,” he offered. Bilbo’s eyes met Thorin’s, and suddenly twinkled with mirth.

“You mean aside from never telling me he was a Prince?” he chuckled. Thorin stared at Bilbo a moment before he barked a laugh, managing to ease up on being something akin to a lovesick puppy.

“We both know Frerin wasn’t always the brightest. And it _is_ just like him to forget to tell his One that he’s a Prince,” the Dwarf chortled.

“Maybe,” Bilbo’s smile turned into something of a grin, “Or he knew he might frighten me off if I knew he was a Prince. That is definitely something that makes you reevaluate courting. Ah, but my mother always said that I would attract the odd ones.”

By the time Bilbo said this the two had left the market place and were headed towards a more open area where children played and watched guards spar and train. Thorin knew Bilbo meant no ill with his words, so he simply grinned and beckoned Bilbo to follow him towards the sparring ground.

“When we arrive, Dwalin will no doubt insist that you begin self-defense training immediately,” the King started, “Would you like a small lesson right now, however?”

Bilbo’s startled expression made Thorin regret his words (of _course_ Bilbo didn’t want to learn any self-defense techniques right now, and possibly not later either) but then Bilbo shrugged a bit, his smile returning (and making Thorin’s shoulders relax the tiniest bit; he hadn’t upset the Hobbit).

“Since I’ll have to learn sooner or later why not sooner rather than later?” Bilbo decided, and he followed Thorin ever closer.

“Excuse us!” The Dwarf King called to the Men. The small group that had been practicing looked over, having taken a break. They spotted Thorin first, and afterward, Bilbo, and their eyes seemed transfixed on the small being.

“Yes?” the apparent leader inquired.

“Might I borrow one of you to show my dear brother-in-law―” (recently Bilbo had been using that term less and less, and suddenly it felt odd to hear Thorin use it) “―a brief lesson?” Thorin requested, polite.

“Of course, you don’t have to,” Bilbo added on, as an option, “If you all have to get back to work soon.”

“Say yes, Balther, they are of Dwarven Royalty,” one of the Men hissed, clearly recognizing Thorin’s face. They must have assumed that since Bilbo was with Thorin, he was also Dwarven Royalty, though they had never seen a Dwarf with the ears of an Elf. The Man leading the group seemed apprehensive, before nodding and stepping forward.

“I will help you with your lesson,” he decided, “If it is alright with you.”

“Indeed it is,” Thorin shucked his coat and first layer of armor so that he was in no more than his tunic. “Just the basics. No weapons.”

The Man dropped his weapons on the side as well and stepped into the ring to face the Dwarf King. Bilbo stood back with the other Men, watching with interest as Thorin took a defence stance.

“Begin!”

[][][][][]

_“The two came at each other, swords crashing and clanging against one another loudly with the force of their blows. Sparks flew every time the two’s swords touched, one trying to best the other, but both being almost equally matched. It was near impossible to tell who would win, but the brave Dwarf would not be bested by the traitor, even if that traitor was his best friend. They continued, blow for blow, until the traitor was brought to his knees and the brave Dwarf brought his sword up, prepared to―”_

_“Da!”_

_The story was interrupted by the tiny voice of Thrain this time, and Bilbo smiled good naturedly as his son wrinkled his Hobbity nose a bit, “Is the bwave Dwawf **weawwy** gonna hurt his fwien’?”_

_“Thaaaaaaain,” Frerin whined, his R’s not quite pronounced yet, “Let Da finis’!”_

_“But ‘Win, he won’t weeeeeawwy huwt him! They’s Ones!”_

_“And what do you know of Ones, young man?” Bilbo questioned. He typically allowed his children to have their little spats without his interference (they had to learn to work things out themselves eventually after all) but the mere mention of a One (what he had been to Frerin I, if he recalled) made Bilbo wonder who his children had been spending their time around as of late._

_“Mistaw Gandal’,” Thrain replied innocently, as if Mister Gandalf was where everyone got their information on anything._

_“Oh? And what, pray tell, has Mister Gandalf been telling you, dear boy?”_

_“Mistah Gandal’ been sayin’ tha’-tha’ Ones is ha’d t’ come by, bu’-but some got mo’e than one!” Frerin explained, nodding his head sagely as if that explanation was the best one to be given._

_“More than―?” Bilbo needed to speak to Gandalf and correct that bit of misinformation it seemed. Many Dwarves had told him, quite clearly, that there was only ever a single One in a Dwarrow’s life time. There was no way a Dwarf could have more than one._

_“Yah!” both boys chimed._

_“Yes,” Bilbo corrected, “Remember your lessons.”_

_The two nodded, fast and hard and making Bilbo smile and laugh as their hair bounced in front of their eyes. Bilbo supposed he would talk to Gandalf the next time they saw each other. For now, though…_

_“Da! Finis’, finis’!”_

_He had to finish the story._

[][][][][]

Dwalin could feel the throbbing in his head as Nori rambled on and on to the boys about the time he managed to steal the crown jewel of Erebor without the king noticing, slipping away in the night and sending the entire kingdom into an uproar. He spoke of how he’d bargained the stone back for a fair price, convincing the king to give him a sixteenth of the gold in the treasury. Dwalin let the story continue without comment up until that part.

“Alright, that’s enough lies for today, Thief,” the Warrior snorted, “Why not tell them what _really_ happened?”

Nori looked affronted at the accusation of him not telling the truth, but Frerin and Thrain were already lost on him, turning to Dwalin to get the apparent facts. Dwalin merely smirked at Nori.

“Well, he’s right about stealing the stone,” he started, “But it didn’t end that way.”

“What happened?” Frerin asked, bouncing eagerly on his toes.

“As I recall, a certain Thief―” and Dwalin rose an eyebrow towards Nori, who had crossed his arms, “―nearly got himself killed!”

“Only a little!” Nori protested, “And things were going fine ‘til _you_ stepped in.”

“If I hadn’t you’d be dead today.”

“I’d be living _happily_ with all the gold I could want!”

“Really.”

“ _Really_.”

Frerin and Thrain looked at each other as another argument cued up between Mister Dwalin and Mister Nori. Thrain looked back up at the two.

“Do you like Mister Nori, Mister Dwalin?” the small child inquired, “‘Cos Great Grandma always says when people argue like that it’s ‘cos they love each other.”

“And she says that sometimes people make up stories when they want someone to like them,” Frerin added.

Nori and Dwalin looked surprised to hear the words from the two lads. Then, both immediately averted their eyes; Dwalin took a couple of steps back and Nori crossed his arms over his chest defensively. The two adults said nothing to each other, even refused to meet eyes, which confused Frerin and Thrain even more.

“Maybe we should ask Da,” Frerin whispered to Thrain. His younger brother nodded in agreement, and the two scurried off without neither Nori nor Dwalin noticing.

[][][][][]

Two faunts went running in search of their father and uncle, but not before finding someone to escort them around (or rather, someone to run after them). They had initially asked Mister Bombur, but he was busy stocking up on spices to take back to the Erebor Kitchens (Frerin had asked if he could help when they arrived, Mister Bombur had replied that he might be able to work something out). Thrain wanted to go to Ori and ask but Ori was busy with Master Balin. Fili and Kili were nowhere to be found (“Uncle Thorin’ll be _really_ upset if they make mischief again…” Thrain had worried. “Mischief is fun!” Frerin had replied with a hearty grin).

Mister Bofur and Mister Bifur were the only ones who could take them; they were happy to chase after them and help them find their father. When the two children went running through the marketplace first, Bifur kept his eye on Frerin and Bofur kept his own on Thrain. When the boys eventually split up (“We’ll find Da faster like this!” “I dunno, ‘Rin…” “C’mon, you trust me, right?”) Bofur and Bifur did as well, promising to shout if anything happened.

Thrain went further into the marketplace, stopping at stalls to look at the wares. Bofur managed to keep up with him simply because Thrain made stops at almost every stall.

“Ooh,” Thrain stared in awe at a stall showcasing Dwarven jewelry, made expertly by the Dwarrowdam standing behind the stall. She recognized a Dwarven child the moment she saw Thrain’s sideburns; they had begun to grow quite a bit in the last few weeks.

“Your child?” she asked Bofur, smiling down at Thrain and showing him some of the necklaces he couldn’t see that were further up. Thrain’s eyes fell on a silver chain inlaid with malachite and kunzite. The Dwarrowdam picked it up and held it to Thrain’s neck.

“My own son has a necklace similar to this one. It was made to fit around a Dwarrow’s neck but most Men give it to their daughters as bracelets. It fits you almost perfectly, little one,” she smiled.

“Mister Bofur!” Thrain whipped around, showing the toymaker the necklace, “Is it nice?”

Bofur smiled, nodding, “Aye, it’s very nice.” He turned to the Dwarrowdam. “How much for such a fine piece of craftsmanship? Whatever it is I’m sure his _Uncle_ would be willing to pay it.”

“You really think so?” Thrain looked up at Bofur, excitement in his eyes. “It’s so pretty!”

“I’ll tell you what, little one,” the Dwarrowdam kneeled so that she was eye level with Thrain, “I’ll hold this for you until your Uncle gets here.”

“You will? Really?” Thrain was practically bouncing on his feet, “Thank you so much!”

Thrain removed the necklace and passed it back to the Dwarrowdam. She placed it into the box she’d taken it out of and closed it, hiding it under the stall. Thrain grabbed Bofur’s hand.

“We need to find Uncle and Da!”

[][][][][]

In the other direction, Bifur chased Frerin towards the sparring grounds, apologizing in rough khuzdul to all the Men Frerin ran past and bumped into. The tiny lad was a fast bugger, and Bifur thought of how he would do well as a warrior. Swift and agile, as well as light on his feet. Dwalin _and_ Nori would have much to teach him and his brother.

“ _Frerin_!” Bifur called. Frerin slowed his run, glancing back.

“Mister Bifur! Come _on_!” he shouted, “I can see Da and Uncle Thorin!”

Bifur sighed in an exasperated manner, but managed to catch up to the Dwobbit (he had heard the Men begin calling Frerin and Thrain by this term, and Bifur had taken to it immediately. Described the twins much better than just Dwarfling or Hobbitling). They reached the sparring grounds, where a large crowd had gathered.

“Da!” Frerin shouted.

Bilbo, who had been watching at the front of the ring, heard his son’s voice over the cheering and jeers, and immediately went in search of him.

“Frerin?” he called, pushing through the crowd. He barely spotted Bifur’s salt and pepper hair through an opening in the crowd and immediately went in his direction. Seeing his son trying to squeeze through the Men, Bilbo whisked his boy into his arms.

“Frerin, what are you doing here? And where is your brother?” Bilbo asked, even as he hugged his son close.

“Uhh…” Frerin was at a lost for words since he had no clue where his younger twin had gone.

“ _Bofur has him_ ,” Bifur replied, when Frerin was stuck.

“Are they safe?” Bilbo inquired next. Bifur nodded his head sagely, and Bilbo smiled in thanks.

“Da! I wanna see Uncle Thorin!” The child exclaimed, pointing through the crowd. Bilbo weighed the pros and cons of allowing Frerin to watch his Uncle spar, and then figured it couldn’t possibly hurt. So long as Frerin never longed to join, then there wouldn’t be any harm.

“Alright. Let’s go see him,” Bilbo grinned. Bifur led the way through, parting the crowd of Men with rough khuzdul phrases (“Da, Mister Bifur called that Man something bad!” “Yes, I heard, my boy, and you _won't_  be repeating those words, correct?” “Yes, Da…”) until they were at the front. Once there, Bifur left to find Bofur and Thrain to direct them in the right direction, and Frerin’s eyes immediately zero’d in on his uncle.

Thorin seemed to dodge the attempts of the two Men he was sparring against with seemingly no effort at all (he had upped the ante from one Man to two simply to show off; he _loved_ having Bilbo’s eyes trained on him, watching his movements, _seeing_ him in mock battle. It made him feel very… adequate). He countered their blows with punches of his own, dancing around them almost, and when he downed one Man, he immediately went for the other. The second Man tried to fight enough for two, but it was useless, and Thorin came out as the victor, ending the match.

“Uncle Thorin! You’re the best!” Frerin shouted when he saw Thorin take down the second Man. Thorin glanced over and smiled when he spotted Frerin cheering him on. He jogged over to speak to his family.

“When did you get here, lansith?” The King asked as he took his nephew into his arms. Frerin was positively vibrating with excitement,

“You’re so great!” Frerin started to say, “And you’re strong and powerful and smart and kind and- and-!”

The young Dwarfling didn’t even finish his sentence, instead seizing forward and wrapping his arms around Thorin’s neck.

“Don’t ever leave, Uncle, okay?” he asked.

Thorin was surprised to hear the sudden words, feeling something trigger in the back of his mind. He looked at Bilbo, who seemed just as shocked as he did.

“You’ve no need to worry, Frerin,” the Dwarrow finally managed to say after recovering, “I won’t be going anywhere.”

Frerin didn’t immediately respond, simply burying his face further into Thorin’s neck, clinging to him. Bilbo didn’t even get an opportunity to say anything before he heard the excited shouts of “Da!” and “Bilbo!” behind them, turning to have his other son barrel into his legs. He didn’t even notice the way Thorin clung to Frerin as well.

[][][][][]

_“Don’t ever leave, nadad, okay?”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think I'm starting to get the hang of things, though I think I need to work a bit more on Bilbo's characterization, and Frerin and Thrain's as well. I'll get it. Eventually.
> 
> See that hint of angst up there? I actually do angst better than I do fluff, so you all wait until I get my hands on some heartbreaking prompts.
> 
> In my outline of the fic I'm up from 27 to 28 chapters.
> 
> Look at what you all have done to me. I hope you're happy.
> 
>  
> 
> (I know I am)


	15. Absence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Makes the Heart Grow Fonder"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE
> 
> I'M BACK
> 
> I won't say "and better than ever" because I'm not LOL I've just had this sitting on my computer since last year and I wanted to finish it. Believe me, if I don't do anything else I WILL finish this story!

_ “That’s the one?” _

_ Young Dis looked up to her brother, little smile practically beaming. She nodded her little head eagerly, practically bouncing on her toes. The energetic young Dwarrowdam had seen the most beautiful piece of craftsmanship in the marketplace, something she just absolutely needed! She’d hurried to get Thorin as soon as she saw it. _

_ “That’s the one,” Dis nodded. The comb seemed to be made of silver, with turquoise inlaid along the spine. It was polished to a beautiful shine with a curling design as the handle. Really quite beautiful, Thorin could see why his sister had taken to it. _

_ “Your Majesty,” the Dwarrow at the stall nodded. He seemed to be a kindly old Dwarrow, with many years on both Dis and Thorin. _

_ “Good evening,” Thorin smiled. He gestured towards the comb. “Could you tell us more about this fine piece of work?” _

_ Dis’s expression shifted to annoyed, a pout crossing her lips and something of an irritated whine in her throat. She didn’t particularly care for how the comb was made; she was much more interested in  _ **_using_ ** _ it. It was beautiful, sure, but she didn’t need to know all of its details. But Thorin shushed her and picked her up into his arms. This would be a learning experience for his younger sister and he wanted her to pay attention. _

_ The Dwarrow puffed up in pride as he picked up the beautiful comb. “Why, this here is one of my finest pieces! I crafted it personally with my own hands. The turquoise was mined by my son, for my daughter. She’s about the same age as the young princess here!” _

_ Dis didn’t seem too interested in the story, though Thorin thought as much. He tried to catch her attention a bit. _

_ “Does your daughter have a comb such as this one?” he asked. _

_ “She has one of the same make. My dear Raes had no need for more than two combs, however, and so the third is here. Actually.” The Dwarrow looked back into his stall. “Raes!” _

_ The sound of little feet padding against the ground came towards the front of the stall. A little head popped up, a tiny Dwarfling with awe shining in her eyes. _

_ “Yes, adad?” _

_ “Hello, little one,” Thorin nodded, “I’d like to inquire about the comb in your father’s hand.” _

_ The young Raes looked up at the comb, her eyes growing wide and immediately becoming excited. Dis, observing the other young Dwarf from her perch in her brother’s arms, was confused by Raes’ sudden excitement. _

_ “My adad made that for me! But I liked the other ones better, the turquoise is patterned different on them and my adad curled the silver back instead of forward,” Raes chattered. “But this one is nice too, because it’s got a swirl pattern.” _

_ Dis was surprised to hear the other Dwarfling know so much about the forging of the combs. She didn’t have a particular talent for forging herself (she was much more prone to needlework and hunting―Frerin was rather ecstatic about that), so it had never interested her. But now… _

_ “Why do you know so much about it?” she inquired of Raes. _

_ “I love smithing! My adad is going to teach me more when I get older!” Raes paused just then, her eyes gleaming, “Do you want to see what my adad made me?” _

_ Her father seemed flustered at his daughter’s sudden question. Thorin frowned a bit as well, prepared to politely decline when he felt a gentle tug on his arm. He looked at Dis, who was staring up at him with curiosity in her eyes. _

_ “May I go see?” she asked. Thorin was surprised at the tiny question. He offered Dis a tiny smile and then lowered her so that her feet touched the ground once more. Raes immediately took Dis’s hand and disappeared into the stall, startling the adults a bit at the pace the two took off at. _

_ Thorin chuckled lightly to himself. “How much for the comb?” _

[][][][][]

“That’s the one?”

Thorin felt a wave of familiarity wash over him as Thrain nodded his little head eagerly. The item being displayed to him was a beautiful necklace; it seemed to be made from silver, with malachite and kunzite inlaid in a beautiful pattern, as if woven almost. Its intricate design was excellently made, showing the craftsman’s dedication to his craft. He looked up and his eyes fell on a familiar face.

“Well, well, I didn’t know King Thorin had more nephews,” the Dwarrowdam smiled.

“Raes,” he nodded, “This is my nephew, Thrain.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Thrain,” Raes bowed, “Your highness.”

Thrain looked confused at the sudden treatment, glancing up at his uncle who merely smiled at him. Thorin pulled out his purse, prepared to pay for the necklace.

“How much do I owe you?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Raes shook her head. “I wouldn’t make an old friend of my father pay. Especially not Lady Dis’s brother.”

Raes picked up the necklace and kneeled down once again, beckoning Thrain over. Just like earlier, Thrain stepped closer. The necklace was easily placed around his neck. The Dwarrowdam smiled and tilted his chin up.

“Yes, I see it now. You’ve his smile.  _ Frerin’s _ smile,” she chuckled. “But I’ve never seen such ears. An Elf maiden?”

Thorin said nothing as Raes observed Thrain. At the mention of his father, he perked up, practically bouncing on his feet.

“You knew my father?” he asked, excitement shining in his eyes. He and Frerin soaked up information on their father like rags, constantly curious.

“Oh yes,” Raes nodded. “Your aunt is a very good friend of mine. I know your family well. Frerin was a bit of a trouble maker. But noble in his causes. He was a good Dwarrow.”

Raes stood, lifting Thrain into her arms. She looked at Thorin.

“I would like to meet their mother formally, should you permit it.” Thrain was small in her arms, but she attributed it to his other parent’s heritage. Raes was sure it was a noble one, if Frerin had chosen her. Raes couldn’t wait to meet her.

“There will be a celebration when we arrive. Try to finish early to be there, I’m sure Fili and Kili would love to see you,” Thorin mentioned. Raes rolled her eyes good naturedly at the mention of the two Princes.  _ Honestly _ those two…

“I will be there.” Raes put Thrain back on his feet. Thrain smiled up at her, before running off. Thorin watched him go, knowing that Thrain would soon be caught by either a guard or one of his own Caravan. But it was still good to keep an eye on his nephew. He said his goodbyes to Raes and followed after Thrain.

It wasn’t until he was out of Raes’ sight did she notice the gold coins sitting on her stall, more than enough to cover the necklace that she’d given to Thrain. She looked off in the direction Thorin had run, a little annoyed, a little exasperated, but more than used to his mannerisms.

She couldn’t wait to meet the Widowed Wife of Frerin. Surely the celebration would be grand in hers and the boys’ welcome.

[][][][][]

_ “You’re not wanted there, you should know.” _

_ Bilbo stopped walking, looking around for the source of the voice. He spotted a Dwarf standing in the shadows, and smiled politely. _

_ “I’m sorry?” _

_ The Dwarf stepped forward, so that Bilbo could see his face. He was an attractive Dwarf (by Dwarrow standards); he had a dark beard that fell down his chest in intricate braids, his eyes were dark, a brown that reminded Bilbo of cherry wood. The Dwarrow smiled, but it did not reach those eyes. It seemed more… mocking, than anything else. _

_ “You. The odd small Elf that’s bewitched the beloved Prince,” he walked forward, “You are not wanted in Erebor. Everyone will hate you.” _

_ Bilbo’s brow furrowed. He had never heard such a thing as that before. Frerin had said the people would love him; his smart and his wit and his contagious smile. He had never heard otherwise from anyone else. Not Frerin’s family nor the Dwarrows that had spoken to them in Bree. To hear otherwise… _

_ “You can’t know that,” Bilbo frowned. _

_ “Oh, but I do. I live there, you see. I know what goes on, amongst the people.” The Dwaf walked a circle around Bilbo, stopping behind him. “They’ll know immediately that you tricked our Prince. You’ll be the most hated being in the East. You’ll cause the Prince only pain and sorrow, having to defend such a pathetic creature at every turn.” _

_ “Bilbo!” Frerin’s voice carried through the halls, searching for his small husband. The Dwarf recognized this as his time to leave. _

_ The Dwarf began walking away, shrugging, “But if you still wish to go, well. I wouldn’t be surprised. Once the Prince dies, you do stand to gain a fortune. Vile creature.” _

_ The Dwarrow disappeared around a different corner as Frerin came through a doorway. He pulled Bilbo into a quick hug, smiling. _

_ “Are you ready to continue?” Frerin asked. _

_ “I―” Bilbo was at a bit of a lost. He looked up at Frerin, the seed of doubt already growing rapidly in his mind. What if the Dwarves of Erebor  _ **_did_ ** _ hate him? He was still an outsider afterall… _

_ “Bilbo?” Frerin took Bilbo’s hands into his own, “Is something wrong?” _

_ “I―I want to go home.” He didn’t want his husband to be burdened by him. “Please.” _

_ Frerin was confused as to why Bilbo suddenly felt this way when he’d been so excited that morning. They would only have, possibly, a week more of travel if they kept going, and they could be in Erebor in no time at all. But Frerin had promised that should Bilbo ever want to stop, they would head back to the Shire immediately. _

_ “Of course, zunshel.” _

[][][][][]

“It’s so big!” Thrain marvelled. He was riding with Fili now, and Frerin with Kili. Their Da had finally broken and allowed them to ride on a pony, but only with someone supervising them. Fili and Kili had jumped at the opportunity, and the only reason Bilbo had agreed was because Balin and Dwalin had rode ahead to alert the Kingdom of the Caravan’s return with Gloin and Nori. That meant Bofur and Bifur were on high alert to ensure nothing went south, Dori and Ori were watching the rear, Oin and Bombur were riding near the front, and Thorin was riding alongside Bilbo. Gandalf had left them long ago.

“Are there lots of Dwarves?” Frerin questioned, looking up at Kili.

“ _ Thousands _ , cousin!” Kili beamed. “All of them waiting to meet you and your brother!”

“And Da?” Thrain added.

“‘Course,” Bofur cut in, laughing a bit, “Everyone in the kingdom can’t  _ wait _ to meet you, yer brother,  _ and _ yer Da.”

Hearing those words reminded Bilbo of a time long past, and he tried to shake away the memory bubbling in the back of his mind. Then and now were two different times. And who’s to say that the Dwarrow from then had even been telling the truth? He’d been young and naive; he hadn’t known better at all. But he was older now and he had family that loved and supported him. If no one else, the Caravan of Dwarves he’d traveled with would accept him.

Thorin picked up on Bilbo’s apparent distress, however, and immediately his concern showed evident on his face.

“Bilbo?” he frowned.

Bilbo looked up at the call of his name and immediately put on a smile so as not to worry Thorin. The last thing he wanted was to worry him. He couldn’t stand the idea of being a burden to Frerin, so of course he could not to Thorin as well.

“I’m fine,” flowed easily from his lips, a lie he’d told countless times before. Thorin seemed to see right through it; he could tell Bilbo was troubled by something, but he didn’t press the issue because he didn’t want to upset the Hobbit. This was to be a joyous occasion.

“Uncle Thorin! Can we go to the top?” Frerin asked, bouncing in Kili’s lap and pointing to the top of the Lonely mountain.

“There is a way there,” Thorin replied.

“Can we go? Can we? Can we? Can we?” Thrain followed up, excitement shining in his eyes.

“ _ No _ ,” Bilbo said the same time Thorin responded with “Possibly.”

The two adults looked at each other, a smile coming to Bilbo’s face. Thorin was glad to have put it there.

“ _ Only _ if it’s safe and there’s  _ plenty _ of supervisions,” the Hobbit amended. “I’ll not have you getting harmed.”

“That means yes,” Kili whispered to Frerin.

Frerin and Thrain shouted with glee, making Bilbo chuckle. Their mirth was his own and for the time being, his earlier reservations were forgotten. No point in ruining the mood with his worries of the past.

As they drew nearer, the sound of cheering could be heard. The great doors to the Lonely Mountain had been opened, likely to welcome home the King and his Caravan. The shouts and cheerings of the Dwarves of Erebor were what truly cleared Bilbo’s mind of fear. So much happiness and such a warm atmosphere of welcome; it was contagious. Thrain and Frerin seemed to agree; they were cheering and shouting as well. Bilbo suspected their little voices would be hoarse in the morning following.

Bilbo glanced over to Thorin out of the corner of his eye, just to see that Thorin was watching him. The expression on his face was one Bilbo was sure he’d seen such an expression before. It looked almost like…  _ longing _ , but Bilbo couldn’t entirely tell for sure. Of course, he was also certain that he was wrong in his judgement of the expression. There was no reason for Thorin to look at him in such a way… was there?

The thoughts were pushed to the back of Bilbo’s mind as they drew closer. He couldn’t be thinking of this now; they were headed into an enormous crowd of Dwarrows who were likely happy to see the return of the King and Princes. It seemed only a few more minutes of riding and their ponies slowed. The faces of the people of Erebor became distinguishable finally, each one different and unique. Bilbo was glad to see them.

He was finally home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? Comments? Concerns? Kudos to anyone who notices anything out of the ordinary. I tweaked my writing style a bit in the months I was gone.
> 
> The next chapter will be more Bilbo/Thorin centric (finally).
> 
> Up from 28 to 29 chapters too somehow??? Oh well


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